Orpheus & Eurydike
by Dare5
Summary: When Scotty gets a new assignment in Seattle, he leaves everything behind: his collegues, his friends, his memories and his former partner, Lilly Rush. Or does he?
1. To Hyperborea

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and no romance in this part ... we'll get to that later.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 1: To Hyperborea  
by Dare

Pens – a blue and a black one. Some sheets with doodles on them – witnesses to Stillman's boring conferences. A ticket for driving to fast and a small figurine of a cat, cut out of green stone. Jade maybe, but possibly some replica badly made in Japan. The cat had been inside his desk when he first occupied it and Scotty Valens intended to leave it there when he left.

He examined the small statue and noticed a small crack on it's chest and one of the ears eyes was missing. Sighing, he put it back into the drawer and closed it.

A carton contained all the stuff he called his own when he actually cleared his desk. Looking around the office, he noticed everyone was gone. Almost two years he had worked here. On one table he discovered the remnants of the cake Vera had brought to Scotty's goodbye-party. The cleaning lady would get rid of the rest.

Scotty Valens closed the carton, looked back at the office for one last time, then he started to leave. He just arrived at the door, when a voice called out for him:

"Not coming back this time?"

He turned, re-adjusted the carton in his hands and looked over to the frame of the interrogation room.

"I didn't know you were still here," he stated.

Lilly Rush smiled a smile so typical for her: A little bit sad and full of warmth and friendliness. After the little episode with Christina, Lilly Rush's sister, Scotty had seen that smile several times – but it had never been reserved for him.

Somehow he was grateful that she actually awarded him with this particular kind of gesture, but on the other hand: he would never see it again, since he was moving to ...

"Seattle is a beautiful city," she said.

"If you like rain." He rolled his eyes. "If you are the foggy and cloudy type."

Lilly smiled. "You'll get used to it. If you get there, you could do some sightseeing and send us pictures: Scotty and the Space Needle. Scotty and the Smith Tower. Scotty and the Bank of America Tower."

"Haha, very funny." Valens tried to look stern, but his eyes twinkled. "I will show those guys over there how this job it is done." A moment of hesitation and then: "I guess I will miss it."

"It?" Rush echoed. She left the interrogation door frame and came over until only one desk – Scotty's desk – was between them.

"Well, Vera's way to kick people's," Lilly raised an eyebrow at the word beginning with an "a" that was to follow. "Behinds, to begin with," Valens concluded.

If things had been different; if things had been ... without Christina, Scotty Valens, who was just staring at his blonde partner now, would have enjoyed their friendly banter and the temporary closeness that came with it – and he would have attempted to hug her.

But considering the current situation, considering the rift that had opened between them in the past few months, his desk between them was a large wall he could not pass.

The silence grew uncomfortable, at least for Scotty: he shifted from one feet to the other, while Lilly's amusement about his uneasiness grew.

"Well," he started.

"Well," she answered, cocking her head.

Scotty shook his head, managed to hold his carton with one hand and extended the other. "It's been a pleasure working with you, Detective Rush. Wasn't always easy, but a pleasure."

She took the hand and shook it firmly. "Same here,Detective Valens." When they let go of each other, there was a small moment of what-if – it filled the room just for a second, but it's mere presence made Scotty ache inside.

Lilly walked her former partner to his car, while opening all the doors for him he couldn't have opened with the carton he was carrying. He placed the carton next to the driver's seat, went over and opened the door on the driver's side.

"When you are in Seattle, be sure to drop in," he advised her.

Lilly smiled. "I will. Take care, Scotty."

"I will," he repeated her earlier sentence. "You too, Lil."

Then everything happened quickly: he got into his car, waved and drove away. He watched Lilly in the mirror and when she disappeared, something small whispered in the back of his head.

Something small he could not quite identify. And soon, it faded away and was gone.

Next day: Airport

Scotty Valens had already taken care of his luggage, when he showed his ticket to the nice lady behind the counter. The name tag said _Stacy Miller _and she smiled a white toothpaste smile.

She directed him to his plane and about forty minutes later, he was already in the air with more space between him and Earth than he wanted to think about.

Next to him was a overweighted guy who was constantly hungry and behind him some children screamed in a way that made him appreciate the earplugs he had brought.

A friendly stewardess brought him lunch and then, he just earplugged the world away and fell asleep.

Hours later, he awoke on the other side of the continent, far away from his past, from his family, from things he did not want to talk about – and for the first time in his life, he was actually happy to find a completely empty, a _blank _appartement.

He had a desk, a bed and some shelves and lots of filled cartons – everything he needed right now.

He phoned with his new department and a quirky secretary named "Tess" answered, telling him they were all expecting him tomorrow.

Then he installed his laptop, plugged in his internet connection and wrote a short mail:

_To: L. Rush  
From: S. Valens  
Subject: Arrived_

_Hello, Lil,  
I made it in one piece. Tell the others I said hi.  
Regards, Scotty._

He stared at the mail, wondering if it was too personal.

'Too personal?' he cursed. '_Hello Lil?_ Too personal? Get a grip.'

He moved his cursor to the send-button and clicked once. The mail raced through the world wide web into someone else's mailbox.

Then he leant back, crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the monitor, the only light source in his dark, new appartement, in his dark, new life.

_End of part #1_

Review, please?


	2. The New Styx

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and no romance in this part ... we'll get to that later.

_Wow, that many reviews. Ten when I last checked. Thanks a lot for liking my story. I'm afraid there will be not much Lilly/Scotty interaction in the first three chapters, but later on, this will change drastically._

_BTW, if someone has information about Scotty's family (Parents still alive? Siblings? Live where?), that would be quite useful. If the series hasn't provided us with that kind of information, I'll make them up, no prob._

_I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep the tone of the story as dark as in the series, since I'm more of a happy person, so – if someone's bothered by that, they should leave. Just FYI. :)_

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 2: The New Styx  
by Dare

No sleep that night, no sleep at all.

Scotty felt sore, tired and hoarse – maybe it was the flight, maybe the new environment. When he checked his digital clock, the green ciphers said _5:17_.

Way to early in the morning. His head fell back to his pillow and he stared at the ceiling. Silently, he counted to three and then, his inner information system told him there was now way he would get any sleep.

Since he hadn't been able to shop for food, or anything else for that matter, he just opened the carton with his showering products and choose one that said:

Anti-hangover gel, the one his mother had brought him over from her trip to Europe three years ago. After showering, brushing his teeth and changing into fresh clothes, he went to his empty desk and pressed the ON-button of his laptop.

His browser loaded and then, his email program.

Surprisingly enough, someone had actually mailed him – and his eyebrows rose several inches, when he saw who it was:

Lilly Rush had mailed him. He doubled-clicked on the blinking icon and read the few lines that had reached him from Philadelphia:

_Scotty,_

_glad you got there in one piece. Vera hopes you don't do anything stupid, since his reputation would suffer too, Stillman wishes you all his best and Jeffries wants you to get a life (in the best way possible)._

_We're all waiting for sightseeing pictures._

_Regards,  
Lilly Rush_

He smiled and shook his head. Everyone assumed Lilly had some twisted sense of humour, since she smiled a lot and rarely laughed, but sometimes her sense of humour manifested itself in the weirdest kinds of ways.

_To get a life_. People who did his kinda of job actually didn't have a life – their job was their life and to find someone who understood that was difficult – to say the least.

He decided to answer Lil in the evening, because then he actually was able to tell something – about his new colleagues, his new job. He disconnected the Internet, waited for Windows XP's irritating sound composition that told him the system was logging off and grabbed his shoes and his coat.

_Keys? Check. Cell? Check. Carton with all the stuff for my desk? Check. Purse? _He turned around. _Where is the damn ... ah. Check._

With a last look at his appartement, he closed the door behind him. The staircase was large with ivory-painted walls and wooden stairs. Somewhere came a strange sound – some kind of pawing, scrabbling. When he arrived at the first floor, he noticed over the carton in his hands an old woman, cleaning the stairs with a broom.

"Good morning," Scotty said.

She eyed him suspiciously. "Are you Andrea's new boyfriend?"

Valens stared at her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me, young man. Are you Andrea's new boyfriend? Because if you are and if you are as rude as her last one – Humphrey, or whatever his name was, I'm warning you --" She waved threateningly with her broom into his direction.

"No, ma'am. I just moved into number 327. My name is Scott Valens, Mrs ...?" he extended his hand.

"It's Miss," the old lady corrected him. The suspicion still had not left her eyes. "Miss Edna McPhee. I am the oldest tenant in this house." She said it in a way as if to announce her status. "It is a quiet and nice house, you know. If you ignore Andrea that is. What do you do, if I may ask you?"

"I'm a detective. I work for the Seattle Police Department," Scotty said and noticed with some relief that the dangerous glint in her eyes started to disappear.

"You catch murderers?" she asked.

"I try, ma'am," Valens answered and suppressed the urge to take a look at his watch.

"Mr. St. Geeslensen lives in number 202. If you have time, maybe you should have a little talk with him, if you know what I mean."

Scotty sighed. _Great_. _Now I've found the catch: the appartement is nice, quiet, not that small, but one of the neighbours is maybe just a little bit mad. _"I'm afraid I have to go Miss McPhee. Today is my first day at work and I don't want to be late."

Miss McPhee nodded. "We will have plenty of opportunity to talk when you come back."

_I am afraid so. _"I'll be looking forward to it. Good day, Miss PcPhee." He almost fled the building.

Seattle Police Station was about fifteen minutes away. On his way he grabbed a coffee and a bagel – and wondered briefly where he could buy a bicycle to simply drive there, but when he noticed the absolutely flawless, if not to say immaculate suit of one of his co-workers who shot him a quite patronizing look, he quickly changed his mind.

He asked his way to his new office and ran into a read-haired young woman who's clothes where neither flawless nor immaculate: a big, brown stain of coffee had coloured her blouse.

"Oh, sorry."

The woman shook her head. "Day started worse," she said. "May I help you?"

"I am Scotty Valens. I'm looking for Jackson Rydell?" he said.

"Oh." The secretary smiled. "You are the new one."

Valens nodded. "Yes, I am the new one."

Her smile grew bigger. "My name is Tess Trudeau. I'm Mr. Rydell's secretary. We talked yesterday on the phone."

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Trudeau," Scotty said.

Tess laughed. "Wait until you know me better." She laughed even harder when she saw his expression. "Just kidding. Chief Rydell is in his office. He wants to meet you immediately. It's the red door. And your desk is, erm, second row, the one on the left." She pointed at a door across the office. "And Valens?"

"Yes?"

"Good luck."

This was one big _what's-that-supposed-to-mean-_morning, he decided when he crossed the bureau, placed the carton in his arms on the empty desk and made his way to Rydell's door. No one seemed to work at this hour – all the chairs and the desks were empty.

Scotty approached the red door, knocked twice, entered – and was met with dozens of stares.

A big conference table was in the middle of the room, every seat was taken and several people stood at the walls. At the end of the table, a man with grey hair and grey, piercing eyes sat.

Scotty knew who he was, even without Tess' involuntarily explanation:

"Here is the file, Chief Rydell," she said, walk to the table and made the file float over to Rydell who caught it with one hand, while his eyes (and those of everyone else in the room) never left him.

"I am Chief Jackson Rydell," the man said. "And I guess you are Scott Valens?"

"Yes, sir."

"I see. This is our Tuesday morning meeting. We have a meeting every Tuesday morning where we use the time to compare notes, so to say," Rydell continued. It was impossible to determine whenever he was angry, annoyed, displeased, pleased. He probably used the same kind of voice to talk about the weather. "This is why we meet half an hour early, Mr. Valens. No one has informed you?"

"Ah, no, sir."

"Consider yourself informed now. Next Tuesday, you will be punctual." His hands lay flat on the file before him. Valens saw something twinkling. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Valens said, when he identified the ring on Rydell's finger. _An ex-marine of the worst kind. Great._

"Good. Good, good." He nodded. "Everyone else: dismissed."

Chairs were moved and slowly, the room emptied itself.

Rydell waved Valens into his bureau right next to the conference room, where Valens sat down on some chair in front of Rydell's desk.

"I had a little chitchat with your boss, Stillman," Rydell said. "He had nothing but praise for you."

Valens hoped his surprise didn't show.

"And you worked with Lillian Rush, didn't you?" Rydell continued.

"Yes sir."

Rydell nodded. "Impressive young lady. Very passionate. Have never met her, though. Anyway, you will work with Detective Eric Orson. He will be your new partner. He can be difficult, but I'm sure you will be able to handle him. Sharp intellect, but sometimes a little bit too hot-headed and too concerned how he may look like."

The door opened and Tess lead a young man into the room. Scotty sighed. It was Mr. Immaculate-Suit.

"Detective Scotty Valens, Detective Eric Orson."

The way Orson looked made Scotty grin and cringe at the same time: both men shook hands, but Orson tried to keep the contact as short as possible. He would probably wash his hands afterwards.

The telephone rang and Rydell answered it quite gruffly. "Yes?" The his features darkened, as he waved them out of the room. The door closed and the last words Scotty heard from Rydell were: "Yes, dear, I'll be home for dinner."

Then Lilly Rush's ex-partner met Eric Orson's critical gaze. "Did you have breakfast this morning?"

"No, I haven't."

"Good. Me neither." Orson glanced at his watch. "I tell you what: we eat something and I'll tell you everything about my current case – and we set some rules about our 'partnership'."

Scott found himself nodding, while he remembered something strange: Whenever Lilly had talked about their partnership, he liked it, but now, the whole idea of being in 'an partnership' with this man (Orson noticed something, took a handkerchief out of his pocket and removed a non-existent fuzz from his left, black, shiny shoe) made him mentally writhe.

"All right. I just get something to write." He went over to his newly appointed desk, opened his carton – and just stared.

On the writing pad he had put into the carton lay the green cat, made of stone, that used to inhabit his old desk. He just looked at the thing and wondered ... Lilly must have put it in there.

She was the last person he met, but he could not remember when she actually did it. On the other hand – Lilly could do lots of unusual things.

He took the damaged cat carefully and put it into his last drawer, then he took the writing pad and a pen, stared at the drawer for a second and followed Orson, who was careful not to touch anything or anyone, out of the room.

He smiled, thinking about the cat – and felt immediately better.

_End part #2_

I'm not sure if Lilly we'll be in the next part (maybe in a telephone conversation or something), but we'll definitely see much more of her in Part #4, I promise.

Review please?


	3. The Huntress' Story

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story. The Burke museum and the Cole Collection belong to the aforementioned Burke Museum. I assume the Cole Collection contains corpses, but I'm not sure. Anyways, I'm in no way affiliated with the Burke Museum.

Thanks a lot for all the reviews. I didn't expect to get so many of them since I found so many spelling errors. Thanks for the info on the family, **Snow Ivy**. I will make them up then. **Chaimera:** I went to Wikipedia to check the spelling for "Eurydike/Eurydice" and once, it was written with a "k" and I liked that one better, so I choose it. Guess Wiki is wrong then. Thanks for the info.

Shoomoolan Cookies (tm) and all its related trademarks, associated firms and it's slogan "Shoo-shoo-shoomolan!" belong to me and my twisted fantasy. Don't feed the cookies to children and keep them away from fire. ;) (BTW, I'm so sorry for these, but I liked them so much, so I decided to keep them part of the story. Again, I apologize, since they are (I think), nothing that would ever make an appearance in CC.)

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ...

And, please – there is a description about the murder of a young girl. It's just a short part, but if you are ... well, if you tend to have bad dreams, you just should skip it. Just FYI. slapsherself Girl, you're talking to CC-fans. They are tough people, they can handle it. :)

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 3: The Huntress' Story  
by Dare

It was a pleasant, little café, Scotty had to admit. And it took him about three seconds to find out why Eric Orson had chosen that particular kind of place:

"Here, Mr. Orson, your usual set of flatware and dishes; extra clean." The waitress smiled. "The usual?"

Orson nodded. "Yes, thank you, Grace."

Grace's look wandered over to Scotty. "And you?"

Before Scott Valens could stop himself, he said: "I have the same he has."

Grace hesitated for just one moment, then nodded. "Sure," she said and left.

Scotty was a good cop, he knew – and one of the reasons was that he could tell by the way people looked at him when he made a mistake. And he just made one.

Grace returned to bring Orson his flatware and dishes and with some astonishment, Scotty watched the man taking napkin – and then ...

... and then Eric Orson started to _polish his fork with it_.

Scotty just stared. Lilly had problems. Stillman did, and probably Jeffries and Vera too, but this man ...

_I bet he carries disinfection spray, too, for all the door knobs._

Orson took the knife and polished it too, then he started to talk and Valens was thankful for the distraction.

"A girl, raped and then murdered in 1987. Her name is Diana Trent, eleven years old. Her body was found in the cellars of the Burke Museum of Natural History and Culture." Orson placed the knife back onto his napkin. "Apparently, some students were categorizing some objects of the Cole Collection when someone stumbled over the body of the girl."

Scotty frowned at him. "Stumbled?"

Orson nodded. "Yes. Her corpse was among seventeen other corpses, whose owners lived in prehistoric New Guinea. No-one would have noticed, but there was one thing that distinguished her bones from all the others."

Grace returned and brought the breakfast: coffee without caffeine, butter on the basis of soynuts, sugar that didn't look like sugar but more like little tablets and Scotty's most favourite part: dark, stony, weird smelling cubes. He tried one, almost lost one of his teeth – and decided to never let those things get near his mouth again.

"What _are _those?" he asked, as he frantically waved for Grace who hopefully had some more edible in her fridge.

"Shoomoolan Cookies," Orson said. Probably those _things _were the most ordinary thing on this part of the planet – or on Orson's homeworld, where ever he came from, but over in Philly they were considered 'biological weapons'. If you threw those at a person, they would probablyhave to jump for their life -- or die because of anhole in the back of their heads in which the cookie still stuck."They are sugar – and fat free,contain minerals, vitamins and ginkogiloba. They are an European speciality."

"Yes?" Grace asked, when she arrived at the table.

Scotty stared at the cookies and said: "I want two big brownies."

Grace grinned. "Sure," and hurried away.

"How did you find out that the girl's corpse was different?" Scotty asked.

Eric Orson raised his gaze andsmiled for the first time since Scott Valens knew him. "Prehistoric New Guineans don't wear braces."

Scott Valens smiled back, but when he later found out how they learned about her rape, he felt like he would never smile again:

Someone had sent the girl's uterus to her parents.

"We tried to solve the case several times since 1987, but ... no success," Orson explained, while he and Valens walked back to the police station to grab the file.

"Why did you re-open it then?" Scotty asked. It was a difficult question, Scotty realized.

Orson's lips were one thin, grim line. "My former partner, Frederick Zimmer, was obsessed with this case. One month ago the apartement of an elder man was 'opened'. James Tanaka had been dead for over half a year. A neighbour noticed some strange smell and the police officers found the body." Orson took a large step over a puddle. "Frederick Zimmer lived just across the street – and when he came over to see what had happened, he found by accident a small heart-shape medallion on James Tanaka's shelves in the living room and identified it as Diana Trent's necklace."

"Why isn't Zimmer still working on the case?" Scotty asked.

"Zimmeris sixty-one years old and he wasn't exactly healthy. The Chief and Frederick had an argument some days later and you could hear them screaming on the other end of the city." Orsons shook his head. "Frederick stormed out of Rydell's bureau and was never seen again. Rydell sent him his things personally via mail. End of story."

"And now you try to solve this case?"

"Rydell ordered someone to fill in Frederick's job and – well, they sent you," Orson concluded. "You did quite a good job over in Philadelphia and Rydell wants this case to be gone. Diana Trent some kind of infamous ghost that keeps haunting our division and pops up every other year when Frederick got any weird ideas."

Orson took something out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to Scotty. "Besides the pictures of Diana Trent's brother and her parents, we found this in the necklace."

Scotty look down at the object. "A little bit to obvious, don't you think?" he said and waved with the business card.

"Well, no. _Greenwood Technologies _closed down in 1999 and Mr. obvious-business-cardEdward Sykes is already dead. We are currently trying to find out if Sykes has any relatives and where his colleagues and his former boss live."

"Any luck?"

"Yes. Charles Greenwood. Runs _Greenwood Computers _down Victoria Street. Our first visit today," Orson said.

* * *

_Greenwood Computers _was a small, shabby shop lead by a young, skinny man with thick glasses and a baseball cap that said: 

_Reality is where the pizza comes from._

Scott Valens almost smiled; Lilly would have liked this.

The man saw first Orson who had disinfected the door knobbefore he touched and opened it, whileScott Valens who watched the ruins that used to be working computer systems with a mixture of suspicion and fascination.

"Yes?" Charles Greenwood asked.

"My name is Scott Valens and this is Eric Orson. Seattle Police Departement," Valens said with well-trained routine. "Charles Greenwood?"

"Yes?"

"We'd like to talk with you about Edward Sykes. He worked for your previous company, Greenwood Technologies," Orson explained.

"Ah ... what do you want to know?" Greenwood looked from one man to the other. He was probably afraid that the officers would take his computer with them and discovered all the X-rated movies there the internet was famous for.

"Everything."

Later that day, Scotty sat in his apartement and loosened his tie. Greenwood knew nothing of importance about Edward Skykes. Sykes had designed the webpage for _Greenwood Technologies_ until it's untimely end in 1999. He was a punctual man who didn't talk much, had some kind of spartan style when it came to graphics. Possibly no family, but on the other hand since he didn't talk to anyone ...

There was something else that hadn't left his mind: Diana Trent was an "infamous ghost" -- that was how Orson had addressed her: as "infamous". She way people at the office and Rydell himself talked about her made Scotty think about some kind of legend.

She was probably quite well-known among people who were interested in cold cases. And Scotty was among the few chosen ones that had had the great privilege to know one of the greatest minds when it came to those kind of unsolved tragedies.

When he came back from all those thoughts and reality swept over him he looked down at his hand and found his phone there.

He dialed blindly – waited for three beeps and then: "Hello? _Olivia, not now_," a female voice snapped.

"Hi, Lil."

"Scotty?"

"Yeah. Uhm ... how are you doing?" Scott asked.

"I'm fine – besides some cat that's trying to murder me," Lilly quipped. "Is everyone's treating you nice? How's you new partner?"

"The chief is an ex-marine, my partner has so many neurosis I lost count of them and on my first morning – let's just don't talk about it." He sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, maybe you could help me? I've got a small problem."

"What is it?"

"The first case I'm going to solve here – it's seems to be some kind of legend. They found the corpse of a little girl named Diana Trent. Do you know her?"

"Have you met Frederick Zimmer?"

_A-ha. I knew she knows something about it. _"No, apparently, he retired. His old partner is my new partner. I just – do you know that Zimmer tried to solve Diana Trent's case time and again?"

"Yes. Lost his reputation on the entire thing – no-one knew why he was so passionate about the girl. What did you find?" Lilly asked.

"A necklace that belonged to the girl with a business card of a dead man inside. We're currently checking his colleagues, friends and family if he had that. But – the reason I called is ... well ..."

"If I know something about the case that's not in the files."

Scotty could almost _hear _Lilly's smile. "Yes."

"I have to phone some people, but maybe I'll find something," she said.

Scotty heard her suppress a yawn.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concern colouring his voice.

"I'm fine – it's been a long day. Oh, besides, tomorrow your substitute will arrive," she said. "When Vera heard about it, he said 'That'll be fun' and then, he broke the pen he held."

"Poor guy – must be really missing me," Scotty said.

Scotty could just imagine Lilly sitting there, rolling with her eyes. "Well, yeah – you sort of grow on people, like my cats."

"_Hey!_"

The laughter died down and then, she said: "Well, it's not the same."

"I concur. It's not the same."

They sat there in silence ... and Scott cursed himself for not having more courage to tell her about certain things. That he really liked her. That he was worried about her. That her new partner better looked out for her.

But he didn't know if those words were a burden for her – and God knows, Lilly Rush had enough burdens for two lives.

"I'm going to bed now. It's late," Lilly said on the other side.

"G'night."

"Good night." A small pause. "And don't forget the sightseeing pictures."

"I won't," Scott Valens told the beep on the phone.

End #3

Becky Greenleaf, Fate's Fiddler, Lilmissbubblz, peach-fan14, Mellie Erdmann, Joutsensydn, Snow Ivy, Chaimera, Cady, pealee, lil smiles, ArodLoverus2001, givemecookies, Tiantian Wang, Julia, Abby909, steph, Annica, Evangelina Lilly: thanks a lot for all the reviews. (I hope I haven't forgotten anyone – if that's the case, I'm terribly sorry.)


	4. Hemerocallis

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

Thanks a lot for all the reviews. I didn't expect to get so many of them since I found so many spelling errors.

"Hemerocallis" is a Lilly (not _the _Lilly, just _a _Lilly). It's a DayLilly I've been told ... and well, this one is the "Day of Lilly".

BTW, another question for all the guys who have seen second season two episodes (or just paid better attention than me): Do we know (see middle of Spoiler block):

SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER  
SPOILERSPOILERWho raped Lilly?SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER  
SPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILERSPOILER

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ...

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 4: Hemerocallis  
by Dare

When Scotty woke up this morning – already his fifth morning in a city he still liked to call foreign or even strange – the digital clock said _6:12._

He again stared at the ceiling which was depressingly empty; the first thing he decided was to put something up there. Maybe a picture or – the little six-year old boy within him squealed with delight – some small stars you could glue to the ceiling and which would glow in the darkness.

He contemplated that thought and swept it away – he was a grown man, for goodness sake, a police officer no less and there was no way he would ever put small, glowing stars on the ceiling of his sleeping room.

"No way denying it, Valens – you feel miserable and you are pathetic," he mumbled to himself, while he getting up. He walked to his bathroom and took a shower.

Afterwards, with lots and lots of anti-hangover shower gel, he felt remotely better. Breakfast was some fat free cornflakes, milk, an apple, a peanut-butter sandwich and about a gallone of coffee.

He walked over to the door, went through his mental checklist ("Where are the fucking keys?") and when he opened it, he did not notice a small, marble statue in form of a cat which had been placed in front of his door.

He stumbled over it – and the only thing he noticed about it was the faint noise of a crash when it fell down the staircase and burst asunder with a thousand pieces left. The twin of the stone cat stoically sat in the last drawer of his desk, when he arrived in the bureau.

Eric Orson was already there, wearing an absolutely _perfect _suit.

_Possibly Armani_, Valens thought. _How can he afford those things?_

Orson held a small piece of paper in his hand and waved with it. He handed it to Valens, careful not to touch anything too _human, _too _impure_.

"Who is this?" Scotty asked. "A colleague of Edward Sykes or a relative?" He stared at Orson and tried hard not to frown.

Orson had stuck a way too large nose spray into the organ in the middle of his face and snorted several times before he answered: "A colleague. But according to Charles Greenwood whom I phoned this very morning, those two where _closely affiliated_."

"You mean they were involved?" Valens asked.

Orson nodded. "Yes. Amelia Pherson, formerly Amelia Sanchez. Her husband is a well-known lawyer of Pherson, Pherson & Fizz. I suggest we try to be diplomatic."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Valens asked.

"Nothing. Have you already had breakfast this morning?" Eric Orson wanted to know.

"Yes," Valens said. He tried to keep a straight face. Orson eating lunch was a difficult thing to do, but Orson eating his breakfast ...

Scotty shook his head. Compared to Eric Orson, Vera back in Philly was a choir boy.

Valens watched his partner leaving the bureau. _He phoned Charles Greenwood _this morning_. It's not even eight o'clock. Geez._

"Nice ass, I know."

Valens turned around. "What?"

"I said ..." Tess Trudeau started.

"I know what you said," Scotty answered. "I wasn't ... are you implying that I was checking him out?"

Tess smiled. "Louder. I'm not sure they heard you in Timbuktu."

Scotty quickly looked around. Most of the desks where empty so god had not completely forsaken him. "I wasn't – I was just glad that he's eating his breakfast alone, because ..."

"Shoomoolan cookies?"

"Yes. I have never seen anything more disdainful in my entire life," Valens said. "How can he eat them?"

"They are sugar – and fat free and contain minerals, vitamins and ginkogiloba. And they are an European speciality. I honestly don't know how you can eat them," she added. "Still, I had to ask. I mean, it's always good to know if one is competition or not, right?"

"Right. Though I don't know how anyone could compete for Eric Orson of all people," Scotty said.

"Well, he's not my type," Tess said.

"What is your type then, if you don't mind me to ask?" Scotty asked. The next second he wanted to hit himself for it.

Tess smiled. "My type has less Y-chromosomes. And by the way, Rydell wants to see you." Then, she sauntered away.

Scotty stared at her for a second, then shook his head. The one single woman he was currently working with liked her human beings with no Y-chromosomes.

_Great._

He approached Rydell's door and before he could knock, he heard someone shout "Come in!"

Rydell sat behind his desk, two large stacks of files adorning his bureau. "Sit," he grumbled, scribbled something on a document, closed the file and placed it on one of the stacks. Then, he looked up.

"How are you doing?"

Valens knew Rydell meant the case. Rydell always meant the case -- and he always meant business."Well – currently, we are checking with all the colleagues of Edward Sykes. Today, we are going to visit Amelia Pherson, who was probably involved with Sykes."

"I see." Rydell rubbed the bridge of his nose.Dark circles made his eyes look even darker than usual. Apparantlyit wasalready a hard day for him."I see. How is Orson doing?"

"Good. Besides his quirks, of course," Valens answered. He wondered what Rydell was really trying to say.

"Nothing – out of the ordinary?" Rydell continued.

"Sir," Scotty shook his head. "I think Eric Orson is completely out of the ordinary. What are you getting at?"

"Look," Rydell apparently was uncomfortable about the entire subject. "Eric Orson was always a good officer. Always by the book, as you probably have noticed. But his quirks, as you call them, they started to emerge after he was starting to work with – are you familiar with Orson's former partner?"

"He told me about him, yes."

"His peculiarities started to emerge for the first time during his collaboration with Frederick Zimmer. The dead girl, Diana Trent, is Frederick Zimmer's most important case and I am not sure if it is wise ..." he trailed off and his face grew hard again. "If he starts to act weird – even weirder than usual, I want to be informed, understood?"

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Fine. You are dismissed." Valens started to get up, but Rydell stopped him. "There is one last thing – today arrive the information you requested from Quantico. I didn't know you had connections to the FBI?"

_Neither did I. _"I tryeverything, even grasping ... you know," he said. When he closed the door behind him, he smiled. _Thanks, Lil._

* * *

"Thanks for your time, Mrs. Pherson," Scotty Valens said. "We really appreciate your help." 

Amelia was a beautiful woman in her mid forties. A beautiful woman who would only marry a man with enough money. Valens couldn't imagine her working with a guy who wore baseball caps that said:

_Reality is where the pizza comes from_.

Those were possibly the good old times Amelia Pherson would talk about with her girlfriends at some charity function as if Amelia Sanchez were a completely different person from a completely different life.

"Ah, yes, _Edward_. He was such an adorable man. That is, until I found out he was cheating on me."

"He was – _cheating _on you?"

"With Bernadette Dukes – I think she is now night manager at McDonald's." The smile was a cat's smile, after she had caught the bird and eaten it. "But anyway, yes, he was. But at that time I had already met Fabio."

"The girl was murdered in October 17th 1987. Do you remember anything about that period of time?" Orson asked.

"No – besides his affair with Bernadette Dukes? Nothing of importance. He still had his job at _Green Tech _and worked for that old man. Did his shopping – I think he was an old friend of his father."

"Do you remember the name?" Valens asked. Something was ringing in the back of his mind.

"No – it was a foreign name. Asian I think, but I'm not sure," Amelia Pherson said.

"Please, try to remember. It could be very important, Mrs. Pherson."

Amelia frowned and started to think. "Nothing common like Fujitsu, Honda or Subaru or anything ... it was with a 'T'." She raised her eyebrow sand her smile disappeared. It was a perilous sight – almost as perilous as if the face disappeared and the smile was the only thing left. It reminded Scotty somehow of a cat. "_Tanaka_. His name was _Tanaka._ _James Tanaka._"

Valens and Orson exchanged a glance.

_Bingo._

During the lunchbreak, Scotty went to s small shop two streets away and came back with a calender that showed several photographs the _Hubble Space Telescope _had shot. They weren't small stars that could be glued to his ceiling but they were a beginning.

He was humming when he entered the police station, nodded at the woman behind the corner and took the lift in order to get to his floor.

The doors closed and a blonde woman pushed several time the button of the lift, then decided to take the stairs.

Scotty Valens arrived at his bureau, a little bit exhausted, but happy.

"At least we have our connection between Edward Sykes and James Tanaka," Scotty said to Orson, who sat at the desk next to him.

Twentythree pencils lay before him while he himself was occupied with resharpening the twentysixth pencil.

Scotty Valens placed the calender next to his desk, than he sat down and started to sway with his chair. "The question is: how come that Sykes' business card was in Diana Trent's necklace?"

"Maybe it was him who brought the necklace to James Tanaka? Maybe he forgot it there?"

It was a female voice who said that. A voice that belonged someone who was several degrees away on the other side of the continent. Scotty twisted his neck so he could see who was standing behind him.

Blonde hair, blue eyes, an amused smile. "Your Quantico connections have arrived."

He wanted to say something – but lost balance and fell over.

Once again, he saw an empty ceiling, but suddenly, his view was obscured by the face of a woman who was trying hard to suppress her smile.

"Scotty?" she asked. The word was full of laughter and ... _bubbles. _There was no other way to describe it. "Are you all right?" Behind her, Orson was standing, munching a Shoomoolan cookie. If Scotty's back hadn't been aching so much and if he had been able to breath properly, he would have laughed, but ...

At least he managed to say some words, which were (he knew) not the most brilliant thing to say:

"Lillian Rush," he managed, followed by an

"_Ouch_."

End #4

MaryRose, Nix707, Abby909, Chaimera, Karin1, pealee, AthenaIceGoddess, lil smiles, Mellie Erdmann, kawaii-peach14, abb900, Becky Greenleaf, Annica, givemecookies, Tiantian Wang and everyone else who reviewed and I again forgot: thanks for your reviews.


	5. The girl from my other life

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ... as usual. The juicy parts are yet to come.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 5: The girl from my other life  
by Dare

Then he saw the other face next to Lilly's. Female. Slightly darker skin. "Is he all right?"

"He is fine," Lilly Rush said as she helped her former partner to sit up. "Right?"

Eric Orson was still standing in the background, munching his goddamn cookies. The entire situation was so surreal to him – Lilly being the only ordinary thing in a place so out of ordinary like this.

"Right," Scotty managed to say. "Just peachy." He felt a bump develop at the back of his head. "Ouch."

"You already said that," Lilly said. She knelt beside him and held is shoulder. They eyes met. "Long time no see," she smiled.

"Yes." He grinned back and shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, Lil, but – what the hell are you doing here?"

"This is Pamela Sharma," she said, and pointed at the woman next to her. "She's with the FBI. When I told her what you are working on, she and some of her colleagues became – well, sort of _nervous_." She raised an eyebrow. "Apparently there is more behind this case."

"With the FBI on it – I guess so." He got up, straightened his posture and tried to un-wrinkle his suit, but with no success. "Doesn't explain what you are doing here."

"Pam is an old friend of mine – she asked me to come along since the case could benefit from my experience," Lilly said. Then she chuckled. "Stillman and Vera weren't exactly happy with it, but – well, here I am."

"Where is Chief Rydell? We should talk to him," Agent Sharma said. She was a good-looking woman in her mid-thirties with blue eyes in contrast to her milk-coffee-like skin, but the Frieda-Kalo-brow wasn't Scotty's type.

_Speaking of the devil_, Scotty thought. Rydell's door opened and he came out, carrying a box of files. "Tess? Where the _fu --_" Then he noticed Lilly Rush and Pamela Sharma. "Who the hell are you?"

Pamela Sharma raised an eyebrow at him. She exchanged glances with Lilly, walked over to Rydell and offered her hand. "I'm agent Pamela Sharma. FBI. Nice to meet you, Mr. Rydell."

"I seriously doubt that, Agent Sharma," Rydell said and shook her hand. Scotty watched Sharma's knuckles go white under Rydell's grip, but the woman managed to keep a straight face.

"And this is Detective Lillian Rush," Sharma introduced her company.

Rydell stared at Lilly and took in her appearance. "Though you might be taller," he greeted her and shook her hand, too. No white knuckles this time.

"Nice to meet you, too, Chief Rydell," Lilly said.

"So," Rydell began after he had ushered the entire group of four people into his bureau. He had closed the door with and audible _Wham _behind him, not without shouting: "No calls – tell them to go to hell, Tess!"

"Yessir," Tess answered with an mischievous smile and winked. Scotty couldn't determine what or the the aim of that wink was, but he stepped aside to let Lilly enter the bureau before him and shoot Tess a dark glance, something she acknowledged with a chuckle.

_God_, _that woman was irritating_, Scotty thought.

"You two," Rydell stared at Sharma and Rush, "are here to assist the boys.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Sharma said icily.

Rydell narrowed his eyes, while Scotty grimaced internally. He exchanged a glance with Lilly whi suggestively shrugged._ Let the games begin._

"But _I _put it that way," Rydell stated. "This is _our case_. We work on it since 1987. You will help us or your status will be reduced to that of a bystander. Understood?"

"The FBI is as well interested in Diana Trent. I will co-operate, but if I think your detectives are impedimental --"

"You are the one who brought a Philly detective with you, lady," Rydell smiled way to friendly.

Agent Sharma looked as if she was about to snarl at him. "Detective Rush, being an authority on this kind of cases, is an exception."

Rydell cast her a patronising look. "Why don't you just start to work – and if there's any trouble, we continue this little argument. There are really other, more important things I have to do."

"He is the most arrogant, boastful, presumptuous, holier-than-thou --" Agent Sharma fumed the second she had closed the door behind her.

Several of the present detectives on their desks and some secretaries looked at her knowingly. Apparently lots of people left Rydell's office in a state like that.

"You'll get used to it – it can only get better," Scotty tried to clam her.

Sharma stared at him and composed herself. "Fine. Fine. _Fine._" She took a big breath and turned to Orson. "_You_."

Orson took a step back. "What about me?"

"I want all the files, all the information, everything you have on that case," she ordered him. "And I want it yesterday. Valens, I want you to inform Rush about everything you have so far. I suggest we meet after lunch and exchange ideas. Now move," she told Orson and shoved him away.

"She seems like a – _nice _person," Scotty mused. "A little bit – pushy."

"I saw her socially a few times and she has a wonderful sense of humour and is a great mother and a loving wife," Lilly said. "Difficult to imagine?"

"Very," Scotty nodded. He shifted his attention towards her once again. "Where do you stay?" he asked.

"I thought about staying at a motel," Lilly answered him.

"You could stay at my place." Scotty shrugged. "I have a guest room, a crazy neighbour and the currently the most messy apartment in all Seattle to offer."

"Sounds tempting," Lilly laughed. "Are you sure you want a room mate who will increase your chaos?"

"C'mon," he elbowed her lightly. "I cook, I wash, I don't use up all the hot water, I don't boast before Vera that I actually saw you in a pyjama."

"How kind of you." She had a stern look on her face, but her eyes sparkled. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Great. So," he looked around. "It's lunchtime – where's your stuff, so we can bring it over?"

"In the car," Lilly said. "Is it far from here?"

"No – just a few minutes." He lead her out of the building and wondered silently. Back in Philadelphia, they had never been like this. Sure, there had been jokes and sometimes even playful banter, but they had never acted like this – not even before Christina.

_What was happening? _He wondered. _What _the hell _happened?_

_-C-C-C-C-_

"Who are you?" a croaky, annoyed voice asked when Lilly opened the door to Scotty's apartment complex.

Scotty was quick to step up with his former partner, carrying two of the five bags she had brought. "It's okay, Miss McPhee," he groaned under the weight of his load. "It's okay. She's with me."

"And _who _exactly is she?" Miss McPhee asked and waved dangerously with her broom.

"Lillian Rush, Edna McPhee. _Miss _Edna McPhee," he emphasised. "Detective Rush is a colleague who currently helps me with a case. She will stay with me for a few days."

"You don't look like a Detective," Miss McPhee said suspiciously.

"And why do you think that?" Lilly asked with a smile.

"You are to skinny and too fragile," Miss McPhee said and turned to Scotty. "Is she good a her job?"

"Very good," Scotty said.

"Mhh-hm." The old Lady wasn't convinced, but decided to drop it. "Mr. Valens, I think this belongs to you." She took a little bag out of her pocked and handed it to him. "I found it in the cellar. Apparently in a moment of carelessness you stumbled over it and broke it and it fell down."

"How do you know it's mine?" Scotty asked, while dropping one of the suitcases he was holding and took it.

"I found some shards in front of you door," she answered. "Maybe you should be more careful in the future." She cast a pointed look towards Lilly. "Have a nice day." Then she was gone.

Scotty groaned, stuffed the bag with the shards in his pocket and grabbed Lilly's trunk again. "Meet my friendly neighbour," he said, while starting to climb the stairs.

Lilly grinned. "It's seems like such a nice place," she said. "There's always a catch, and even if it's only the neighbour."

Finally, after lots of groans from Scotty's side, they reached his door and he managed to open it and dropped the luggage inside. "Here we are. Just ignore the mess," he said and motioned towards the remaining cartons and boxes. "If you give me the keys for the car, I get the rest of your stuff."

"Scotty --"

"No, I insist. After all, you're my guest."

She sighed and handed him the keys, than he was gone. She listened to his steps. Finally, she looked around.

It wasn't as messy as Scotty had described it. Sure, there were some boxes standing around, but during the week he was in Seattle now, he had bought new furniture. Everything was a bit empty, but there were some pictures on the wall (She recognised a piece by Dalí and two by Chagall), a comfortable-looking couch and a really big TV that hadn't been installed yet.

"Oh, that stupid thing," Scotty said when he noted Lilly's look. "I tried to connect it with the DVD player, but it's just doesn't work." He wavered a bit, when he carried two suitcases into the guest room. "Here, this is your room. The desk was already in here and so were the shelves, but the bed I bought myself."

The bed looked like it was right out some catalogue. There were two big, red and yellow striped pillows on it and a large comforter, perfectly arranged.

"It looks nice," she said.

Scotty looked around. "Well – the bathroom is down the hall, and, yeah, just make yourself comfortable." He was about to leave, when she stopped him.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she said.

"Don't mention it." He smiled. "Welcome to Seattle."

She returned the smile and her blue eyes twinkled affectionately. "Thank you."

C-C-C-C

"All right." Agent Sharma handed out papers. "We have found another colleague of Edward Sykes, Tom Menetti, and the ex-girlfriend of _James Tanaka_."

"The man in whose apartment the necklace was found?" Lilly asked.

Sharma nodded. "Exactly."

"What's so interesting about the ex-girlfriend?" Scotty wanted to know. "If they had been together when they were twenty, what's the use?"

"James Tanaka and Anabelle Lewis have been together when he was seventy-nine and she was seventy-five," Lilly said. "That was during the time when Edward Sykes was working for James Tanaka. Maybe she knew him." She looked up at Pamela Sharma. "I'd like to talk to the old lady, if you don't mind."

"I don't," Sharma agreed. "Orson and I will talk to that Tom Menetti." She got up. "I see you later." They left Scotty's desk and he noticed with some amusement that Agent Sharma cast Eric Orson a rather dark glance when he took a Shoomoolan Cooky out of a plastic bag and started to eat it.

"Well, then. Let's move out," Lilly smiled.

Scotty followed her and grinned. _Just like the old times._

_C-C-C-C_

Annabelle Lewis was a friendly, elder Lady who lived with her seven cats and two even older roommates in a giant house.

Scotty stared at her. She had been seventy-five years old during the time Diana Trent had died. And now, eighteen years later, she was ... ninety-three. He raised his eyebrows. She looked as if she was in her mid sixties.

She offered the two detectives cookies, and while Lilly took one, Scotty suppressed a grimace and shook his head. "No, thank you very much."

"What can I tell you about James?" she mused. "He was such a lovely man. I loved him very much."

"His body lay in his apartment for over half a year. Why didn't you notice his absence?" Scotty asked.

"When James died, I was in Europe for a year, looking after my sister, who wasn't very well that time," she explained. "I was very saddened when I heard about his death."

One of her cats, a big red, fat tiger jumped onto the couch and made himself comfortable on Lilly's lap. He almost seemed too large for someone as small-framed as Lilly. She smiled and crawled the cat.

_Who is looking after your cats while you are gone? _Scotty wondered, then turned towards Mrs. Lewis.

"Do you know anything about a man called Edward Sykes? He worked for James Tanaka."

"Eddy? Oh yes, he did Jamie's shopping," Mrs. Lewis said.

"I see. And do you remember something strange, something _conspicuous_ during the year of 1987 about Edward Sykes?" Lilly asked.

"Everything about Eddy was strange, Miss Rush," Mrs. Lewis remembered. "He rarely said a word, always _stared _at you, even if you asked him a question. Sometimes I wondered if he had understood whatever I was asking him. Anyway, I remember something James told be about Eddy. When I came to visit James one day, Jamie was upset and unsettled. The night before, Eddy had come to him in a terrible state of mind, even for Eddy's standard." She frowned and her eyes got clouded, as she tried to remember. "Eddy said that he had done something terrible and that he had no choice. James told me that Edward behaved as if he had killed someone, but Edward insisted that _someone else _had killed someone." She shook her head.

"Edward Sykes told James Tanaka that _someone _had killed _someone_?" Scotty tried to clarify.

"Yes." Annabelle Lewis nodded. "That is what James told me. _'He killed her – and I have to take care of it now_.' That's what James told me Edward had said to him. And I remember something else. When Edward left Jamie, he left something behind. It was a tiny, little something, made of gold. I saw it laying on the --"

Lilly moved the large cat carefully away and placed Diana Trent's necklace on table between them. "Do you recognise this?"

"The heart-shaped necklace!" the old lady exclaimed. "My God, after all that time." She touched the object carefully."Exactly. That's whatEddy left behind."

_End #5._

Okay, that wasn't very dark, I have to admit. But I try in future chapters, I promise.

Thanks to Annica, XdareXDevilX, Becky Greenleaf, Chaimera, steph, AthenaIceGoddess, pealee, givemecookies, Mellie Erdmann, Abby909, kawaii-peach14, Tiantian Wang, Evangelina Lilly and Nix707 for their kind reviews. Thanks a lot, folks, you don't know how much I appreciate them. :)


	6. Beware of the cat!

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, and maybe a tiny bit of romance in this part ... we're getting there.

**Givemecookies: **Thanks for your kind review. I think you mean "The Persistence of Memory", the picture with the floating clocks. /feels, too, very smart/ But to be honest, I looked it's nameup on Wikipedia. ;)

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 6: Beware of the cat!  
by Dare

"Do you think Edward Sykes could have murdered someone?" The large tiger had taken an interest in him, and he tried to push him away. His suit had suffered enough today.

The cat was persistent, took a leap and ruined Scotty's clothes in the most efficient way possible: it stared to purr and curled up.

"You don't like cats?" Mrs. Lewis asked, slightly amused.

"I like them, but my suit doesn't. Well," he and the cat exchanged a glance. "Doesn't matter now."

Mrs. Lewis smiled, then continued. "Eddy? I don't know him well enough to actually judge that," she said. "But my feeling says 'no'. He was a strange man, but something tells me that he would have done something to himself rather than to another person."

"This doesn't sound as if Edward Sykes is our murderer," Scotty said, when he opened the car door for Lilly.

"Maybe he is," she speculated. "Maybe he couldn't believe what he did – and so he tried to dissociate himself from what he did by telling Tanaka it was someone else."

Scotty was about to answer when he cellphone started to ring. "Excuse me. _Yes_?"

Tess the secretary was on the other side. She sounded extremely cheerful, as usual. Scotty tried to ignore the desire to strangle her. "Valens? Where are you?"

"Currently, I'm at Anabelle Lewis' house. What's up?" When he saw Lilly's raised eyebrow, he silently mouthed "Tess" back at her.

"Are you finished over there?"

"Pretty much. Why are you asking?" he wanted to know.

There were some muffled voices in the background. "You have a visitor: Marie Trent is here – she wants to talk to you and Agent Sharma and Orson aren't available."

"Marie Trent?" Scotty asked, taken completely by surprise. He searched for her name in his inner library. "Diana Trent's mother?"

"Yes. She doesn't have much time," Tess said. "You should hurry."

"All right." Lilly got into the car and he walked over to the driver's door. "I'm on my way."

"See ya then." Tess ended the connection.

"Marie Trent – that's interesting. Why would she want to talk to us?"

Scotty started the car. "We'll see about that. She didn't seem to be that co-operative during earlier interviews. And I wonder if her husband's with her."

"Jonathan Trent, if I remember correctly," Lilly said.

They were welcomed by Tess who shoot Scotty a friendly smile and Lilly an even friendlier one. "I lead her into the Conference Room, since it's currently empty," Tess informed them. "Have fun."

"Nice girl, isn't she?" Lilly said absent-minded.

"Yeah." His voice was gruff. He looked over his shoulder and watched Tess disappear in Rydell's office. "Nice girl."

Lilly didn't seem to notice Scotty's tension; she carefully opened the door to the Conference Room – and the small, thin figure of a tiny woman with bleak eyes was revealed.

"Mrs. Trent?"

The woman looked up – and Scotty was met with the hopeless, desperate stare of a mother who had lost her daughter to a madman. She looked as if she had cried – and when Scotty finally noticed all the handkerchiefs in her purse, he knew he was right. This wasn't a woman anymore – it was just the spirit of a once beautiful creature.

He looked over to Lilly and realised that she had noticed the same things about Marie Trent – but suddenly he knew that she had also done something else: during one single second he saw something in Lilly's eyes – was it longing? For what? For Marie Trent's pain? For her sorrow?

_No_, he realised. _Lil was longing for a mother that would do anything for her daughter – something Lilly's mother had never done for her. _Scotty knew Lil had had a difficult childhood – and that her family had been poor, but the relationship with her parents had remained somehow clouded.

"My name is Lilly Rush and this is my par --," he noticed her stumbling over the word that was to come. "My colleague, Scotty Valens."

"Marie Trent," the woman sniffed.

"Yes, we know. So – how can we help you?" Lilly asked.

"My husband is currently away – he spends several days in Boston meeting a business partner of his," she explained, but then shook her head, realising that this probably wasn't relevant information. "Anyway, if he would have been here, I would not have met you."

Scotty frowned and detected a seriously damaged marriage. "Why do you think that, Mrs. Trent?"

"He --" She shook her head. "If Jonathan discovers –" She looked up and it was the first time there was something else than desperation in her eyes. She sounded determined, even through her tears. "I want you to find the murderer of my daughter. I want you to find him and bring him to justice, no matter what."

She searched her purse and presented the detectives with a business card. "Talk to her. My husband sometimes visits her and I don't know who she is, but she knows something."

"Mrs. Trent ..." Lilly started, but Marie Trent side-stepped her immediately.

"I can't tell you anything else, I'm sorry."

"Warren Sanatorium," Scotty read aloud, after Marie Trent had left. He turned the business card and a messily written name covered most of it's back side. "Juliette St. Claire. Hm. A woman regularly visited by Jonathan Trent, Diana Trent's father." His eyes met Lilly's. "Where are all those cues leading us? First James Tanaka who presumably received the business card and the necklace from Edward Sykes and now Marie Trent – and Juliette St. Claire."

Lilly leant back in her chair and rubbed the back of her nose. "We'll see about that – we'll see." She sighed.

That evening they drove back to Scotty's apartment in silence. Scotty cast his current roommate some glances – she was tired, he could tell. She stared out of the window and her eyelids were heavy. Her fair complexion was somehow dull now – it was lacking of it's usual glow.

He parked in front of his apartment complex and elbowed her slightly. "Lil – we're there."

"Hmm?" Not until then she realised where they were. "Oh, right."

"Are you sure you're fine, Lil?" Scotty asked.

Lilly shook her head. "It's probably just the jet lag," she said and tried hard not to yawn.

No Miss McPhee when they entered the building, something Scotty was thankful for. The surroundings were not as inviting and cosy as Scotty wished them to be, but it could have been worse.

"Wanna shower first?" he asked her and received a barely visible nod. She went into the bathroom and only a few minutes later, he could hear the water.

Staring down the hall towards the wooden door Lilly was currently behind, he wondered if he could do anything for her. He walked some circles, rubbed his neck and finally decided to christen his brand-new sandwich maker.

When Lilly left the bathroom, dressed in a grey, baggy sweater and way too large, marine-coloured pants, she found her former partner in the kitchen, humming to himself. She stared at his back for a few seconds – and for the first time since ... well, since Patrick, she wondered what it was like to come home and find someone else besides her cats.

He turned, when he finally noticed her presence. "You look like hell," he told her with his most charming smile and offered her a sandwich.

"You think you look any better?" she asked and shook her head, when he tried to hand her the plate. "Thanks, but no thanks, I'm not hungry."

"What have you eaten today?" he asked.

She opened her mouth, but he was faster. "A bagel and practically nothing for breakfast," he answered for her. "And that's definitely not enough." He shoved the plate into her hands. "Eat. Please."

"Scotty, really – that's very nice of you, but I'm not hungry," she tried to tell him, but he was adamant.

"Don't force me to take critical measures," Scotty said and lead her towards the living room.

"Like _what_?" She tried to sound imperious, but failed miserably: being barefoot, she was even smaller than usual – her make-up had disappeared and her hair was completely dishevelled and wet – she looked like some stubborn college girl; and for a moment, she looked painfully like Alyssa – someone who fed the urge in male admirers to protect her; the problem with Lilly was: If you tried to protect her and she found out, you were in serious trouble.

"If you don't eat up," Scotty said. "I'm going to tell Stillman – and I don't care for the consequences."

Lil rolled her eyes and sat down on the couch in front of the malfunctioning TV and the stubborn DVD player. "Oh, now, I'm really scared. What do you think Stillman would do?"

"Consider yourself warned," Scotty advised her. "I'm going to shower and hopefully, your sandwich is gone when I'm back." He waved over his shoulder and disappeared.

No battle of wits, no playful banter, he realised, when he shut the bathroom door behind him. She must be really tired.

The room was full of stuff that didn't belong to him: several bottles of shampoo and shower gel, antiperspirant and a pink toothbrush. He stared at the thing and couldn't believe it belonged to someone like Lilly Rush. Grinning, he wondered what Vera would think about it.

He kinda liked the view of his toothbrush next to hers.

Wrapping his towel around his body after he had showered, he heard some foreign noises coming from the living room. He quickly dressed up, walked down the hall – and was met with a strange sight.

The TV was switched on and the empty DVD box of some old movie of his lay in front of it on the parquet. Lilly was fast asleep on the couch, the plate on her lap, the sandwich half-eaten.

Scotty just stared at her, then back at the TV and the DVD player, who were obviously functioning. He checked the backside of the TV and discovered various cables who looked as if they were correctly attached to both TV and DVD player.

Again, surprised and baffled, Scotty looked up towards Lilly – who seemed like the last person able to install electronic equipment. He knelt next to the couch and stared down at her.

She was an enigma – he never ascertained if Lilly ever felt anything else besides professional friendship towards him. He remembered her outburst when she found out that he had an affair with her sister, Christina, of all persons – but her anger; was it directed towards Christina or towards him?

He had been defensive about her accusations – and his reaction hadn't been the best, but had hers?

He looked down at her – sleeping, looking all innocent, not like someone who hunted for murderers every day. He moved a strand of hair from her forehead and dared to touch her cheek. She moved and mumbled something in her sleep.

He wondered if anyone had ever cared for her – would've done anything for her – and how anyone could hurt her.

He removed the hand as if her cheek had been sizzling hot. Feelings started to wake inside himself, feelings, that were completely inappropriate and – given Lilly's polite, friendly, but nevertheless professional and platonic signals – would most likely break his heart if he started to imagine things.

He got her a blanket – and squeezed her hand.

Thunderstruck, he dared not to move, when he felt her squeezing back. Her mouth opened slightly and he stared down at her, at her pink lips, trying hard not to do anything stupid.

C-C-C-C

Lilly was woken by the smell of pancakes and coffee. Her back hurt – couches weren't the most orthopaedic piece of furniture there was.

When she tried to sit up, every single bone was protesting again, and she grimaced. Suddenly, she missed her cats dearly – they were the kind of things you hugged when you felt like this.

When she got up and padded towards the kitchen, she could already see Scotty preparing the breakfast. He seemed to be in a good mood and his smile grew when he noticed her approaching.

"'Morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her. "Coffee?"

She nodded and sat down at the table. "What time is it?" she asked.

"You have," he glanced at the clock on the wall. "twenty-nine minutes to shower and get ready for work," he informed her. "How are you feeling?"

"Miserable – like always in the morning." He presented her with a pancake, that had a grinning face on it. Lilly raised her eyebrows and then looked up at him. "I didn't know you could cook."

"Well, if you'd like to call it that way," he smiled. "I have a bunch of nieces and nephews," he explained. "They like there food staring back at them."

"Tastes good," she informed him.

"I aim to please," he drawled and placed a plate with a mountain of pancakes between them. "Thanks for looking after my TV and the DVD player."

"You're welcome," she said and smiled. "If you try really hard, this place will look really nice some day. How about some pictures?"

"I already have pictures."

"Something besides Chagall and Dalí," she said, while taking a sip from her coffee. "There are lots of empty walls in here. And, of course, the ultimate accessory for an apartment are cats." She grinned at him.

"I'll think about it," he called, when she was already on her way to the bathroom.

While Scotty felt like some desperate housewife, cleaning the table and placing the cups into the sink, he wondered if he could call it a sign: Lilly advised him how to furnish his new apartment.

Some time later (and much earlier than he had anticipated), Lilly left the bathroom, completely dressed and ready for work. Scotty already stood by the door, doing his mental checklist ("Have you seen the keys?"), when he noticed something.

There, in front of his door, sat a tiny, little something, made out of marble. He expected it to be a cat – and in some way, it was a cat, but a big one. It was small, green lion, possibly made out of jade.

"Another one," Scotty noted. He turned it several times. "That's weird. I thought you had sent me those."

"I have send you _what_?" Lilly asked, coming from the living room, waving with his keys.

"Those." He held up the small lion. "I found one in the carton from my desk back in Philly. But it was a cat, not a lion. Strange, isn't it?" He stared down at the sitting lion. It felt cold and smooth.

Lilly stared down at the thing with a look that made Scotty feel uneasy. "Mrs. McPhee gave you something. Do you still have it?" Her voice was strange – in a way completely devoid of emotion.

"The pieces of something she found it the cellar," he said. "Yes, I have." The small bag Mrs. McPhee had given him was still on his desk. He opened it and managed to fish a tail and half of the head of a cat out of it. When he came back to the door, Lilly's face told him something he didn't like. She was deep in thought, obviously, and he could see information dancing behind her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked. There was something personal about these marble cats, he could tell. "Do you know these things?"

"Yes." Lilly nodded. "Yes, I do. Where's the cat from Philly?"

"In my desk, at the office," he said. His confusion grew. "I don't understand – what's up? What's wrong?"

"We are going to visit someone," Lilly said, solid determination in her eyes. "Eric Orson's former partner – the one that was obsessed with this case: his name was Frederick Zimmer, right?"

"Yes, that's right. Do you know him?"

"Yes, I do." Her eyes were practically glowing. "Yes, I most certainly do." She shook her head, apparantly mad at herself. "I should've known," she whispered, while stomping out of the appartment.

It was something personal, Scotty figured. And that was, in Lilly's case, always the worst.

# end part 6

All right, now thingsare gettinginteresting: The only persons which are still missing are the murderer of poor Diana Trent, and, well, Christina Rush.

Thanks to: lillmissbubblz, Tiantian Wang, pealee, Abby909, kawaii-peach14, Annica, XdareXDevilX, AthenaIceGoddess, Becky Greenleaf, Mellie Erdmann, Nix707 and givemecookies. Thanks a lot, guys, for all your kind reviews. :)


	7. Cerberus

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave. No sex, but a bit of romance in this part.

**Erm, okay:** this is possibly one of my darkest and most disgusting chapters to date. I think the character of Frederick Zimmer is pretty effective, but still ... anyway, consider yourself warned (maybe I'm just overreacting, but better safe than sorry, right?):

Rated **NC-17** just to be sure. Don't say I didn't warn you.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 7: Cerberus  
by Dare

"You _know _Frederick Zimmer? Eric Orson's former partner?" Scotty asked Lilly, while he tried to keep up with her: she was running down the staircase, taking two stairs at once. "How do you know him?"

"Just one second," she said. She had her cellphone pressed against her ear and was trying to reach Tess. When they were on the first floor and past Miss McPhee, who ordered them to be quieter, since some of the neighbours were still sleeping, Tess finally answered. "Tess? It's me, Lilly Rush. Listen, I need the address of Frederick Zimmer. You know, Orson's former partner." There was a short silence. "St. Anthonys Road 117," she told Scotty. "Thanks, Tess." She hanged up.

They reached Scotty's car. "I'll drive," Lilly said. "Get in."

"Lil, I seriously don't think --"

"Do you want to stay here or do you want to accompany me?"

Scotty handed her the keys and opened the passenger door. "You owe me big," he told her and shook his head. When she drove off the parking lot, she started to talk. "Frederick Zimmer or really Carlson Frederick Eddings Zimmer wasn't --" She hesitated and gave Scotty a long, scrutinising look, before she continued. "Have I ever told you about Patrick Bailey?"

"No," he said. He looked at her and knew, whoever it was, he was important to her. "You haven't."

"He was my fiancé," she said. Her lips were a thin line. "It's a complicated and long story, but it was Carlson introduced us. He was Patrick's childhood friend – and responsible for his death. That's why he was transferred to this place. Originally they wanted to kick him out of the department, but his family, especially his father interfered." She took a rather sharp curve and some cars behind her started to honk, while Scotty held onto his seat. "Mr. Zimmer knew the right people and offered the right amount of money."

"Why didn't you recognize him earlier? His name was all over Diana Trent's file," Scotty asked.

"It's been eleven years now, Scotty – and Carlson, or Frederick, as he calls himself know, belongs to a circle of my past I'd rather not think or talk about, or remember," she said. "And furthermore, when I remember the friend of Patrick, I think of him as Carlson Eddings, not Frederick Zimmer."

"And why, do you think, he sent me all those cats? Why didn't he sent them to you? What are they, anyway and – _watch it!"_

Lilly overtook several cars and Scotty stole a glance into the mirror – he could see several shocked and surprised drivers wave with their hands; some of them made some gestures that weren't all too polite.

"Maybe you should slow down a bit," he advised her, but she ignored him and continued.

"Carls – _Frederick _is a difficult man, and he can be very dangerous. He is brilliant, very charming, has lots of money, but nobody should ever underestimate him," Lilly said. She exchanged a small glance with her passenger. "I don't know why he send them to you – and, well, they are --" She grimaced. "You'll see what they are."

The tour ended in front of a very large building, Victorian style. It was dark, covered with ivy and looked intimidating, like the cave of a monster.

"Are you sure it's the right address?" Scotty asked and pulled his coat tighter around his shoulders. He looked around – the street with lots of shiny houses with red, colourful brigs and light claddings looked completely empty.

"Trust me – this is the right place," she said, as she determinedly climbed the stairs.

Scotty followed her. He knew instantly that they weren't exactly welcome, but it was a feeling he was used to – he dealt with people who didn't want to talk to him every day and every day, he was sure he could manage it and get every information he wanted, but now ...

There was something about this house – like it harboured someone who was – who was ...

Lilly ringed. It took some time, then the door opened. It was an old woman who looked at the couple suspiciously. A _very _old woman, as in 'ancient'. Her face was covered with wrinkles and her eyes had lost almost their colour and were white.

"Miss Rush," the woman croaked.

If there was a prototype for the stereotypical apple-bearing witch, this was it. She could give Miss McPhee a run for her money.

"It's been a long time."

"Yes, it has, Mrs. Crowley," Lilly answered. Her tone was crisp and full of underlying anger. "We are here to see _Frederick_."

"Yes, he is expecting you." Her face was completely void of emotion. She stepped aside and let them in. "Let me take your coats."

The entrance hall was a large room with a big staircase leading towards a second floor. Various paintings were hanging on the walls, but most of them were covered with large, white sheets. Scotty noticed dust laying on the stairs that lead upwards, as if they hadn't been used for years.

It was, indeed, a very strange place.

"No, thanks, we won't be staying very long," Lilly said. "Where is he?"

Mrs. Crowley nodded towards the hall. "In the conservatory," she said.

"Thanks. C'mon," she urged her partner to avert his gaze from the surroundings. "Let's try and keep this visit as short as possible."

Scotty nodded and followed her dumbfounded. He didn't know much about Lilly's past, but that it had taken place on such a stage?

The conservatory was the extension of a large, dark hall, filled with a long table and several, white-apparelled paintings on the walls. There was violent, white light coming through the large windows of the winter garden – Scotty narrowed his eyes in order to adjust to the lightning conditions, but to no avail. Frederick Zimmer was nowhere to be seen. But there was some kind of unshaped, black mass in front of the glistening windows and when Lilly called out --

"Hello, Frederick."

-- the black mass moved.

When they came closer, Scotty realised what it was: it used to be a human being, but now, it was just a large mass of fat in a wheelchair that could barely contain all of it.

Frederick Zimmer had no hair left – even his eyebrows were completely bare. He couldn't possibly move at all and when Scotty noticed the faint smell of urine, he assumed that Frederick Zimmer or whatever was left of him, hadn't left that chair for a very long time. He almost looked like a baby – an oversized, ugly version of a baby.

Next to him, there was a small, round table and on top of it sat a chess board and it's associated chess figures.

He would have almost crashed into Lilly when he recognised the pieces: the white (or really green) side was missing two pawns – little cats made out of jade – and it's king, the lion.

"Lillian," the thing that was Frederick Zimmer, said. His voice was unnaturally high. "You look good."

"I wish I could say the same thing," Lilly answered him. There wasn't any disgust in her voice – something that impressed Scotty – only anger.

"Well," tiny black eyes looked at her in a way that made Scotty feel uncomfortable. "I was a little bit greedy in the past. And this is Scott Valens, I presume." Just his tiny eyes wandered over to Scotty. "I would shake your hand, but currently I am unfit to do so."

"Detective Valens received your gifts," Lilly hissed at him, before Scotty could say another word. "Why are you giving them away? Is this part of your game?"

"Game? I didn't notice I was playing one, Lillian," he drawled lazily. "And since this is one of Patrick's favourite belongings, I thought I give pieces of it to a dear person." He looked up at Scotty who noted with abhorrence the trail of saliva that wandered down several of Frederick's chins. "Did you like my presents, Mr. Valens?" he asked. The way he pronounced every single word sent chills down Scotty Valens' spine: it was like he cut them out with a very sharp knife.

"I don't know how I deserve them," Scotty said in a neutral kind of tone.

"You are currently working on Diana Trent's case, are you not?" Frederick asked. "How is it going? It was my favourite of all cases." A tiny smile played on his fleshy lips.

"It's going," Scotty said. "Thank you very much." Currently, he didn't care for the case, but for the woman who was with him: he could see unbelievable rage in Lilly's eyes and her hands formed white-knuckled fists. She looked as if she would bare her teeth any minute. He had never seen her this way: Lilly rarely laughed, but she smiled. She was serious, earnest, compassionate and sometimes too sensible for her own good. When she got angry, it was usually a slow burn, and as far as he was concerned, it almost always ended in tears.

"That is nice. The poor girl, you know. Did you know that her parents were sent her cut-out uterus?" Frederick Zimmer asked in a let's-exchange-cooking-recipes-voice.

"Is it because of Patrick?" Lilly snapped. "Why are you doing this? Why are interfering and why do you sent one of Patrick's most prized possessions to one of my friends?"

"Well, as you have noted in the past, Lillian, I am, what professionals call, a maniac, a mentally ill person. We Americans have such an amusing term for it – a kook, a _crackpot_. What do you think, Mr. Valens, is more fitting: A kook or a crackpot?"

Lilly was close to tears, Scotty could tell. He knew how she felt: as if they had time-travelled into a part of her past that was connected to some of her worst memories and greatest injuries. And as Scotty watched her, she fell deeper and deeper into that time and the hurt gradually grew. He was about the grab her arm to get her away from this crazy man, but for Lilly it was the last straw.

She apparently lost it.

"Listen, _Carlson_," she bent down to him, each of her hands on his armrests. A muscle twitched in her jaw. They noses almost touched. "I don't know what you are up to – and I don't care. Just leave me and my friends alone and stay out of my life. I closed this chapter of my life and you are in it." She leant even nearer if this was even possible. "If you don't heed my advise, you are going to _regret it_."

On Carlson's lips appeared the terrible smile of a manchild. "I think I just ejaculated," he whispered.

"Fuck off," she whispered back and then turned on her heels and stormed off.

"Mr. Valens," Frederick Zimmer called out, when Valens started to follow Lil.

"I don't think there's anything left to say," Scotty managed to press out. He just wanted to deck the guy and there were several appropriate _bon mots _on his tongue that wanted to get out, but he managed to behave.

"Then just listen," Frederick Zimmer told him. "Keep the cats. They are some of the few things I have from Patrick, Lillian Rush's fiancé. They are important to her, whether she acknowledges it or not."

"Why are you doing this to her?" Scotty asked. "Hasn't she suffered enough?"

Frederick Zimmer smiled. "And I will put an end to her suffering, as it was Patrick Bailey's last will." He struggled for air and his lungs seemed to be rattling. The masses of fat were wobbling.

"If you harm a hair on Lilly's head --" he warned him.

"Tsk-tsk. No one ever gets it. No one ever understands what I am saying." He shook his head. "It is the tragedy of my life." Then he changed the topic. "You found Juliette St. Claire, did you not? She is the last and only key to Diana Trent's murder."

For a second, Scotty's curiosity about the case took over. "Did you find out something? Something that --"

"-- is not in the files? No. I have not. No matter how much I asked her she would not tell me a thing. But Lillian can do it – after all, this is why she is here."

Scotty stared at him and wondered if he used the cats to summon Lilly from Philadelphia, but he dared not to voice his question: because he didn't want to spent more time in Edward-Carlson-whatever-his-name-was' company and furthermore, Lilly was out there, possibly in a bad state of mind.

"I hope we never meet again,"he told Frederick Zimmer, then he left the house.

Lilly was waiting for him – she sat in the car on the passenger seat and looked – oh surprise! -- completely miserable. She stared out at the windows and tried to compose herself, but Scotty could see her shoulders shaking.

He knew that Lilly Rush could handle lots of pain, lots of hurt and lots of sorrow, but even someone like her had a breaking point. And Scotty feared that she had reached hers. He knew there wasn't much he could do – and what worried him most was: maybe she wouldn't let him help her.

How high were the walls around her heart? And was Scotty Valens, of all people, able to climb them?

He opened the passenger door and knelt down. "Lilly --?"

"Let's drive to the police department," she commanded, not looking at him. Stains betrayed her tears.

"Lil, I think that's the worst of all places you want to be today," he told her gently. He tried to catch one of her hands that produced ugly wrinkles in her coat, but she moved it away. "If I can solve this case, I can leave this town again – and I can leave Carlson. That's everything which matters now."

Scotty stared at her and realised: he didn't want her to go. He wanted her to stay, because of reasons he did not want to think about and he did not want to analyse: those kind of thoughts made it only harder for her – and for him.

Currently, only one thing mattered: help her to feel better. Everything else could wait.

"Lil – just ... let's get you something to eat, so you can calm down a bit, okay?"

"Scotty --"

He reached up, touched her chin and made her look at him. The moment their gazes locked he knew that she wasn't able to bear his eyes and the walls started to crumble. She raised her hands to hide the tears, but to no avail.

Softly, she started to cry, almost without any noise, but to Scotty, those quiet sobs almost broke his heart. He got up and finally moved her arms around her. It was a strange situation – two years ago, he would have laughed if someone had told that that one day, he would console Lilly Rush of all persons like this.

For the first time he actually felt how tiny, how skinny Lilly was. He could feel her shoulders through her dark coat and her collarbone that pressed against his crooked body, when he tried to wrap himself around her and shield her from the person that was sitting in a wheelchair in the house behind them.

She cried even more and her grip on his coat tightened. Scotty held her, his head hovering above yours. He rubbed wide circles over her back and when her shoulders stopped shaking, he held them and knelt down again. His look searched hers, but she still looked down, her messy blonde hair covering her eyes.

After several sniffles, she managed to resume eye contact. She looked at him with a teary, red-rimmed gaze and he scanned his pockets for a handkerchief and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she murmured and dapped her eyes and her cheeks. "Thanks for coming with me."

"Don't mention it. Feeling any better?" he asked. The concern was evident in his voice. He felt the sudden urge to lock her away from the world and all the harm that came with it.

"Let's just get away from this place," she whispered. "Please."

"And you're sure you'll be fine?" he asked.

She didn't meet his eyes. "Yes."

Scotty reached down and touched her chin to tilt his face up and force her to meet his eyes. "Sure?"

She looked at him with a gaze that told him she was testing him, searching for something in his glance. Whatever it was she found there – apparently, she liked what she saw and a tiny smile crept onto her lips. "No – but I will be."

And that was good enough for Scotty.

end #7

**Mellie Erdmann: **Thanks a lot for your kind words (and thanks for patiently reviewing each and every chapter I produce.) :)  
**lilsmiles:** Thanks a lot.  
**Pealee:** Me, too! ;)  
**kawaiipeach14** (cute nickname, BTW): Hope you didn't hurt anyone in the meantime. I work as fast as possible. ;)  
**AthenaIceGoddess:**Thanks a lot. :) I try.  
**SidleIdol03:** I try to update soon. And thanks for reading it. :)  
**XDareXDevilX:** I try hard not to. :)  
**Annica: **Thanks a lot. I know the chapters are sometimes a bit short – but I hope they'll grow a bit in the future. Thanks for liking "my" Lilly and Scotty. I always wonder if they are completely out-of-character or not.  
**Lea:** Thanks for reviewing. Here's your update. :)  
**Evangelina Lilly**: I love the L/S parts, too. :) And I hope you liked this chapters, since it is the most L/S-ish to date.  
**givemecookies:** I made you giggle! Yay! Well, that's an achievement, isn't it:) And at least you _have _morning abilities; the only morning ability I have is to sleep until late afternoon. ;)  
**Tiantian Wang** (BTW, you have a really cool name :)): Thanks a lot. I like the ending, too. They are the most difficult thing to write, I think. ;)  
**Nix707:** I really hope so. And here's your new, next chapter. I hope I can keep things curious. :)


	8. The Caged Girl

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave.

**Bad news:** Still no sex. (But definitely romance – (at least from Scotty's side).)

**God news:** I dropped the Christina Rush sidestory, since it would be too much, even for someone like Lilly (and she simply wouldn't fit into the story).

A small little something in her is from an X-Files book I read long time ago which I remembered while writing the conversation with Hank.

**Sorry: **For not updating for so long. Had to write a paper, so no time at all.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 8: The caged girl  
by Dare

When they entered the office, Chief Rydell was talking to Tess – the moment he saw Lilly and Scotty, his eyes narrowed and he stalked over to them.

"You talked to Frederick Zimmer." It sounded like an accusation.

Scotty answered before Lilly had to. "Yes, we did."

Rydell looked from one to the other. Scotty held the glare, as did Lilly, but Lilly Rush's former partner knew that the ice over this particular very deep and frosty lake called Frederick Zimmer was still to thin to be threaded.

"Anything new?" he asked. There was suspicion in his voice and a strange kind of surprise – apparently, he was surprised both of them met Frederick Zimmer in his cave and came back in one piece.

_How little you know_. "Zimmer knows about Juliette St. Claire," Scotty said.

"Ah, yes, the mad woman." Rydell nodded and changed to subject, something both Scotty and Lilly were thankful for. The chief's voice got crispy. "We have a small problem."

"A small ... _problem_?" Scotty exchanged a glance with Lilly and raised an eyebrow and Rydell. "What do you mean?"

Rydell shot them a dark glance and gestured over to the desks where Pamela Sharma and Eric Orson were sitting. Both of them weren't looking at each other, each reading intently whatever they were holding.

A strange mood wavered between them, as if they were both ... _sulking_.

"What happened?" Lilly asked. Scotty noticed the corner of her mouth twitching.

"Orson refuses to accompany Agent Sharma – or anyone for that matter – to Warren Sanatorium," Rydell said. "He probably thinks they are going to keep him there – and if he continues like this, I'll make sure they will."

"In other words – we are going to accompany Agent Sharma to the Sanatorium," Lilly concluded.

"Correct. And I hope for you own safety that you come back with some revelations." Rydell shook a finger at them as if they were school children and stomped into his bureau, murmuring something under his breath, closing the door loudly.

When he was finally gone, they talked to Agent Sharma, who was furious. "I thought to solve this case within at least a _week_, but under current circumstances," Scotty just could stop staring at her almost-uni-brow which continuously moved. "It seems to be _impossible_." Sharma muttered something in her mother tongue that didn't sound very flattering. "I tell you, Lillian, this _person _should be removed from duty – why not assign him a job at some desk in some dark archive somewhere far away from here – and me."

"He can't be _that _bad," Lilly said and tried to hide her smile.

"No, he is _worse_. Do you know what Shoomolan cookies are?" she asked.

"Yes." It was the first time since they had left the office that Scotty said something. "And I'd rather not talk about them."

They got into the car and Agent Sharma handed Scotty a small piece of paper with the address of Warren Sanatorium.

"What was Frederick Zimmer like?" Agent Sharma asked.

Scotty tried hard to concentrate on the street, while watching Lilly flinch in the corner of his eyes.

"He was ..." She cleared her voice. "He is an overweighted man in a wheelchair and he knew about Juliette St. Claire."

They was some rustling of paper from the back seat. "There is nothing in the file that says he visited her when he was still on duty."

"Maybe he learned about her existence after having retired?" Agent Sharma suggested.

"Maybe. Or maybe he investigated after his retirement," Lilly said. She had a faraway look on her face and still was a bit pale. "He has ways and means to do that."

Agent Sharma looked as if she was about to say something, but she just shook her head and continued to read Diana Trent's file, while Lilly stared out of the window.

They drove in silence and finally, after over half an hour, Scotty parked in front of a large, grey building with some trees in front of it which seemed to have lost all there colour. It was a depressing sight – and suddenly Scotty thought about Alyssa, about her sudden death and about an equally dark and depressing building on the other side of the continent.

Big, black letters over the entrance said:

Warren Sanatorium

Scotty hated this place immediately and from the looks of it, so did his two female colleagues.

They entered the lobby and behind a large, grey counter a young man with black, thin-rimmed glasses was fast asleep, snoring. He had opened his mouth and he had drooled on his white overall. An image that didn't flatter him at all.

Agent Sharma's blood pressure was already way through the roof when she noticed him sleeping while on duty.

"Hey! _Hey! Ex_cuse me!"

The situation was almost comical, when with a final, great snorer, the man rejoined the living and blinked behind his glasses at them. "Wha --" He wiped his mouth. "What? Who are you?"

Three shiny badges appeared in the hands of the visitors.

"We are here to investigate in a case of murder and we'd like to talk Juliette St. Claire," Lilly said patiently.

"Today's Thursday," the man behind the counter said in a final tone.

"And what's the problem with Thursdays?" Scotty wanted to know.

The man – a small tag on his overall said "Hank Miller" -- pointed at a large board on the wall with the specified visiting hours on it. "No visiting on Thursday."

Agent Sharma's urge to simply draw her weapon grew. "Now _listen_, Hank," she leant forward and stared at the young man. "This is a FBI investigation. Be thankful that it is only us and not my entire bureau trying to talk to _you_, Juliette St. Claire and any other person in the entire building. If you are trying to prevent us from doing our work, I'll have you arrested according to article eleven b, section nine-five-zero. _Understood?_"

"I'll go and get Doctor Franklin," Hank stuttered and scurried away.

"That was quite impressive," Scotty said. "Is that how they work at the FBI?"

"Chalk it up to stress," Sharma said.

Lilly smiled – it was so good to see her smiling again, Scotty realised. "Article eleven b, section nine-five-zero?"

"'Attention, water protection area'," Agent Sharma quoted, when Hank came back with Doctor Franklin.

Doctor Franklin was a thin, tall man with grey hair clinging desperately on his bald head. He readjusted his glasses when he saw the visitors. Hank had informed him – he knew why the officers paid him a visit.

"Doctor Franklin," he shook several hands. "You are here to see Juliette St. Claire?"

"Yes."

"Well – I'm afraid 'seeing' is the only thing you will be able to do. Juliette isn't exactly very talkative," he said. "Please, follow me."

"Is she on medication?" Lilly asked.

"Yes – because of her depression. But she stopped talking long time ago," Doctor Franklin said. "She likes to watch TV though and plays board games with the other patients, but she doesn't talk at all. You can try if you want to."

"Does she have any visitors?" Scotty asked, while they passed several steely grey doors.

"Yes – a man, Jonathan Trent. He also pays for her stay here – her parents have died long time ago," Doctor Franklin said.

They entered a large room with white walls. People were sitting around, not moving at all – some of them were watching TV.

Scotty identified the show on TV as _Jeopardy_, but one man sitting in from of the screen was screaming "Bingo! _Bingo!_" all the time. A man with a pyramid-like black hat was walking around and on a table to elder woman debated if the _Titanic _had sunk in 1913 or in 1908.

Dr. Franklin lead them away from all those people to a large armchair that fas facing a big window. Scotty exchanged glances with Lilly and Sharma, then he slowly walked around the chair to face Juliette St. Claire.

One second, he was completely taken aback and then, he tried to hide his surprise.

Juliette St. Claire was a fair-skinned, beautiful woman in her late thirties. Maybe she was older, but it was impossible to determine her age. She had cloudy, blue eyes, long lashes, thin, elegant eyebrows and long blonde hair. She was possibly one of the most beautiful women Scotty had ever seen.

But his surprise rooted somewhere else: She looked a lot like Lilly.

Neither Agent Sharma nor Lilly herself seemed to notice.

Agent Sharma looked pointedly at the doctor who left then.

Lilly knelt next to the woman and Scotty just _had _to stare. They were so much alike – but Lilly had survived and Juliette St. Claire hadn't.

"Hello," Lilly began. "My name is Lilly Rush. Do you understand me?"

No reaction at all.

"We are here to investigate the case of a girl named Diana Trent," Lilly continued.

No reaction.

"Diana Trent?" Lilly tried. "A little girl? Marie Trent's daughter?"

Juliette showed no reaction at all. Sometimes she blinked, but besides that she sat completely still. It was like talking to a doll.

"I seriously doubt we'll get any information from her," Pamela Sharma said. "I seriously doubt that it's this world she's living in."

"But if we don't get anything out of here, we're stuck – and there's no way I'm going to visit Frederick Zimmer once again," Lilly said.

"Frederick?"

It took Scotty a second to realise that it was Juliette who had spoken.

"What? What did you say?"

Juliette shook her head. "Poor Frederick ... he visited him."

"Visited whom?" It didn't make any sense.

"But Rosa took him away ... Rosa ... Rosa ..." Juliette stared at Lilly, opened her mouth and ...

(Someone screamed "Bingo! _Bingo!"_)

... started to scream like a madwoman.

"No – please calm down," Sharma started, but she was quite sure that Juliette and no one else for that matter understood a word she was saying.

Scotty placed his hands over his ears and noticed any resemblance to Lilly was gone: Half of Juliette's head suddenly seemed to consist of her mouth while her previously beautiful eyes were budging out of her skull: They looked like balloons with too much air – and as if they were about to explode.

It was truly an bizarre sight ... and Scotty now understood that Juliette was _indeed _a madwoman.

It took Doctor Franklin about thirty seconds to kick them out of the sanatorium, while telling them that there was a very good reason why there weren't any visiting hours on Thursday.

The stood for several seconds in front of the doors. It started to rain and Scotty was the first one to disrupt the silence:

"Who the hell is Rosa?"

Back in the office, they started to search Diana Trent's file for someone or maybe something called _Rosa,_ and finally, Lilly, Scotty and Sharma left they desks exhausted – but without any Rosa.

Sharma finally wished them a good night and left. "See ya tomorrow," and she was gone.

Lilly was dead on her feet, Scotty could tell, but unfortunately, the evening didn't seem to be over.

"Today's Thursday," Tess told them happily. "You are coming to, aren't you?" She had applied a layer of make-up that was half an inch thick.

"Coming? To what?" Scotty asked suspicously.

"It's Thursday. On the first Thursday of the month we all go to the bar at the corner," Tess told them.

Scotty glanced over at Lilly who slightly shook her head and suppressed a yawn.

"No, we're not --"

Tess accepted no excuses. "Sorry." She grabbed both of them by their arms. "You can leave at nine or ten, but you have to come," she said and dragged them away.

Scotty could have strangled her.

C-C-C-C

The place turned out to be fairly nice. It was semi-dark and soft music was playing. People were dancing and having drinks, while Lilly was about to fall from her bar stool. It had been, especially for her, an exhausting day.

Scotty saw Tess and a surprisingly relaxed Eric Orson. Rydell was talking to his infamous wife and for once they looked as if they were in love. All their arguing on phone seemed to be forgotten.

He looked over to Lilly who glanced over to the clock over the door of the ladies' bathroom, sighed and stared into her empty glass. She didn't look as if she had a ball and they wouldn't be able to leave for at least another hour.

Staring at her, a bold and maybe stupid decision formed in his mind.

He got up, gathered all his courage, managed to put a cocky smile on his lips and leant down to her. She tensed up almost immediately, but when she noticed who it was, her shoulders relaxed a little bit.

Her smile was questioning and a little bit tired. "What?"

"Do you want to dance?" he asked. Vera would have killed him if they had been in Philly – first with his stare and later with his bare hands.

The smile froze and she just stared at him.

"C'mon, Lil, it's a nice evening and the day has been pretty stressful, so just – do me a favour and dance with me?" he asked. He tried to sound charming and friendly, but he knew these kind of things weren't working with Lil. He extended his hand. "_Please?_"

She looked at him and though nothing had changed, the smile suddenly lost it's previous chill and some warmth came back. She didn't say a word, just took his hand and allowed Scotty to lead her to the dance floor.

The song which was played was slower than he had anticipated and there wasn't exactly much room to move since suddenly, _everyone_ seemed to have the brilliant idea to dance.

Scotty opened his arms and she stepped into them willingly. They did several steps and Scotty moved them through all the other couples without any bumps. Lilly was a graceful dancer and moved with Scotty effortlessly.

Valens looked down at the woman in his arms and smiled. "Maybe a stupid question, but: are you feeling any better?"

"I'm just completely drained," Lilly whispered through a tiny smile. He felt her tighten his grip on his left hand and his upper right arm. "I guess the whole day took it's toll – if Tess hadn't insisted ..."

"We'll get home as early as possible," Scotty promised her. He grinned, as spun her around. "And I'm glad that you're feeling better."

"You are a good friend, Scotty. I --," whatever she was about to say, she was silenced under his suddenly dark and questioning glance. "I'm glad you asked me to dance," she said finally and Scotty had never been so sure in his life that originally she wanted to say something entirely different.

He smiled at her and when he caught her hands and moved them around his neck, he knew it was a risk – but he offered her enough time to remove them and when she didn't, he took it as a good sign. Moving his hands around her waist, the distance between them shrank into nothingness.

The heat radiating from her body and her warm breath at his neck made him feel dizzy – something he hadn't felt for someone in a very long time and that was the moment when he realised that he was falling in love with Lilly Rush of all people ...

... and he still didn't have any idea what she was thinking of him.

End #8

**Athame**: Thanks a lot – and thank you for your review. Here's your update.

**Becky Greenleaf**: Thanks for reading it. No one lives under a roc just because they haven't read my story. Thanks for adding my story to the C2 archive. :)

**Haley**: They'll get together, don't worry. :)

**Abby909**: Thank you very much. :)

**Nix707**: Thank you very much. I thought maybe someone would consider it OOC that Scotty would console Lilly. Thanks for thinking otherwise.

**Pealee**: Yep, she's letting go. I think she deserves it. :)

**Annica: **I'm excited because of this story too. :) Thanks for reading it.

**Kawaii-peach-14**: Thanks a lot. I don't like Carlson either – but he's quite useful. Here's your update. :)

**XdareXDevilX**: Sorry to keep you waiting.

**Mellie Erdmann**: I think they make a lovely couple too. :) And yeah, Scotty's really worried 'bout her.

**Givemecookies**: The "wheelchair whale". Hehe. That's cool. And hopefully I fill your head again with sticky sweetness.

**AthenaIceGoddness**: Here's your update. Not really more Scotty-comforting in this one, but hopefully you like it anyway.

**Tiantian Wang**: Thanks a lot. I think a slow pace makes it more interesting. And here's your developing bond, BTW. :)


	9. Rosa

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave.

**Bad news:** Still no sex.

**Good news:** More romance, at least from Scotty's side. Poor guy still doesn't know what Lilly's thinking of him. Let's torture him a bit. :)

**Sorry: **For not updating for so long. College has started.

**Note: **Not sure if they get together in this one – if they don't, I'll write an extra-mushy sequel, to silence all those who scream: "ROMANCE! ROMANCE! Why didn't they get together!" . :)

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 9: Rosa  
by Dare

The next morning, Scotty and Lilly sat at his dining table in the kitchen; Lilly had eaten three pancakes, an apple, a slice of bread with about one inch of peanut butter on it and a large bowl of cereals.

Scotty just watched her in awe, wondering time and again how she kept her weight. There was something different about her this morning – she was friendly and polite as usual, but she was lacking of her usual ... well, what was it? Scotty Valens wondered.

What _was _different about her?

Something was missing – there was a certain hard and tough , _streak _about her, something she had acquired during her difficult childhood and all the disappointments during her life.

_Somehow_, Scotty thought. _I'm one of these disappointments along with Christina. But ... _he started to grin. _Maybe I can make it up._

Suddenly, he noticed something in his view. It was a big, beautiful smile – and it belonged to Lilly. He had stared at her without noticing.

"Do I have something on my face?" she asked and started to wipe her cheeks. "Peanut butter?"

_Okay, Valens: just keep cool and whatever you do, _don't _blush. You are an up-grown man, a police officer, someone who is tough. Someone you don't want to mess up with._

"No," he said. He cleared his voice. "No, not all. You're completely fine, I was just deep in, erm, thoughts. Yeah."

_Valens. You are such. An. Idiot._

Lilly's smile grew – he knew, she wasn't buying it at all. "I'll take care of the dishes and everything – and you should get yourself ready. I don't think Rydell would be happy to see you in you pyjamas at work." She almost winked at him. Almost.

Scotty started at her, managed to nod – and gulped heavily, when he was out of sight and fled to the bathroom.

"You can't face her like this," he told the mirror. "You _can't. _She's your partner, at least for the time being. No matter how nice it is to dance with her, just imagine you're dancing with Orson. Since when are you such a – a _wimp_. You used to be _cocky._ You can't have those kind about someone you work with. Okay?" The Valens on the other side of the mirror nodded. "Okay."

He remembered something – when he was still dating Alyssa, he had been afraid that where Alyssa threaded, she would not be able to come back – that she would do something to herself – that something precious about her was taken away and he wouldn't be strong enough to stop it.

With Lilly, things were different: she was such a strong, such a private person. He seriously doubted that there was something that could drive her insane. Hurt her, maybe, or torture her, but Lillian Rush was a survivor – and compared the Alyssa, Lilly did not want to saved – and compared to Alyssa, Lilly was able to turn him into a babbling pre-college idiot.

It was an entirely knew feeling he could have lived without.

With Lilly, Scotty felt helpless: She wasn't buying any of his shit, could handle his cockiness and occasionally rising arrogance. And she was no damsel-in-distress.

He showered, brushed his teeth and wiped away the bubbly, white beard the toothpaste had created, then he got dressed.

"Okay," he said in a forceful tone when he left the bathroom. "Let go. We're going to be late anyway." Scotty nodded. _Forceful. Confident. Cocky. Just keep it up._

When he entered the living room, Lilly was siting on the couch, her head in her hands, her elbows on her knees and met his eyes. She smiled and looked absolutely adorable.

Scotty supressed a gulp and amlost stumbled over it's own feet. "Okay, let's go."

She didn't tell him that she noticed him slapping his forehead again and again when he followed her out of the apartment.

CCCCCC

"You are late, you two," Rydell said when Valens and Rush entered the department. "Long night?"

Scotty ignored the question. "Anything new about the woman Juliette St.Claire told us about? Rosa?"

Orson shook his head. "No, we are still checking the files," he said. "Agent Sharma is currently talking to someone at the _Warren Sanatorium_, requesting Juliette St. Claire's file." He rolled his eyes in Sharma's general direction, where the young and very furious woman practically _screamed _at the person on the other side of the phone.

Sharma did her job, all right – but she wasn't exactly diplomatic.

"Are you sure she's a nice person when she's not carrying her badge?" Scotty asked his partner.

Lilly just smiled at him and handed him a part of the Trent File. "Have fun," she told him and they spent half the morning trying to figure out who the hell that _Rosa _was.

It was before there lunch break when Sharma came over from her desk, waving a file over her head. Her victorious face created a deep frown and a pout in Eric Orson's face.

"I found it. I just reviewed the family history of everyone and it jumped into my face," she declared. "Rosa _St. Claire_."

Lilly took a look at the file, then she sat back. "Rosa St. Claire is Juliette St. Claire's mother." She looked at Orson. "Is she still alive?"

Orson keyed something into the computer, then he looked up. "Even better – she lives in Duvall, near Seattle."

Sharma looked up at Valens and Rush and smiled not so pleasantly. "Have fun."

"You are not coming with us?" Rush asked.

Sharma shook her head. "No, we have an appointment with him-who-shall-not-be-named."

Scotty and Lilly stared at him.

"With whom?" Scotty wanted to know.

Agent Sharma laughed. "When you have children, you'll get it. Orson and I are going to visit Frederick Zimmer."

Scotty watched his partner in the edge of his eye – and she didn't even flinch. She _really_ had self-control.

Something that could not be said about Orson. "Oh, must we?" he asked, while wringing his hands.

"Stop whining, Orson," Sharma ordered him mercilessly. "We just ask him a few question and leave."

Lilly watched both of them with a certain amount of worry when they started to leave, but she didn't say a word about it. She just nodded towards Scotty. "Shall we?"

Scotty did his mental check list and when he couldn't find the keys, Lilly was already waving with them, then they left building on their way to the car. She drove, while he reviewed all the information they had on Rosa St. Claire.

"She was the householder," Scotty told Lilly. "She worked for the Trents."

"Why was she never questioned?" Lilly asked. "We don't have any interviews with her."

Scotty frowned and shook his head. "Wrong Trents," he said. "She worked for Jonathan Trent's parents and left them, when Augustus Trent, Diana Trent's grandfather, died. "Why would Jonathan Trent visit the daughter of an employee of his father?"

Lilly's gaze grew intense. "I have a strange feeling about this," she told Scotty.

"What do you mean?"

Lilly shook her head. "I can't tell you."

"You can tell me – I am your partner," Scotty joked.

Lilly merely smiled at his lame attempt of humour. "No, it's just – I can't place my finger on it; it's something ..." she again shook her head, apparently at a loss of words. "We'll see when we talk to Rosa St. Claire."

It took them awhile to actually reach the small city of Duvall. It had about five thousand citizens – and they stopped at a small restaurant to eat something for dinner.

A slightly oversized lady – that would be the polite way to describe her to anyone – brought their meals.

Lilly had salad with French dressing, while Scotty ordered a large cheeseburger with double cheese.

"Your arteries will scream in agony," Lilly commented dryly, when she saw the burger dripping with fat.

Scotty waggled with his eyebrows and took a big bite. "Tastes delicious," he informed her, while she just rolled his eyes at him.

"You know," he said, when he had finished his burger and watched her eating her salad. "I wonder why it was never like this back in Philly."

She didn't look at him. "What do you mean?"

"Like eating together or even joking together," Scotty said. "I never knew you can eat so much for breakfast."

This time, she looked at him and there was a smile in her eyes. "Usually, I'm only eating that much when I feel good."

He stared at her and tried to remember when he had seen her eaten that much. Sometimes they had ordered Chinese back in Philly, and Vera, Stillman and Jeffries had always urged her to eat more that just the fortune cookies and a random noodle.

This morning, she had eaten --

-- more than him. They exchanged a long glance over her salad and his bottle of coke, then he said slowly: "Thank you," not sure, if she actually meant it as a compliment.

The response was a rare, almost-toothy smile. "You are welcome," she told him.

They left the restaurant and about twenty they stood in front of Rosa St. Claire's house. It was a large, white building with a red roof and a carefully attended garden in front of it.

Scotty identified some of the flowers as roses.

Roses.

_Rosa._

How appropriate.

The door was slightly open which was never a good sign.

They both drew their guns and slowly approached the building. Pressed next to the door, Lilly nodded and Scotty slowly entered the house.

"Mrs. St. Claire?" he called out.

There was a rustle and then something black moved towards Scotty.

He waved his gun around and almost shoot a black cat that escaped through his legs.

"Jeez," he mumbled and carefully moved forward, Lilly slightly behind them.

To their left was the empty kitchen and to their right the completely empty living room with a small table, a comfortable couch, an armchair and a fireplace with a shelf over it that held dozens of framed photos.

A hall lead to the backyard and stairs to the first floor.

When they climbed the creaky stairs, a cold chill greeted them – all the windows up there had been opened and the floor in front of the master bedroom was covered with white pieces of paper.

And in the middle of all that white colour in front of the bed, cloaked in red blood, lay the lifeless body of an elderly woman.

Rosa St. Claire.

End #9

**CreativeFreak24:** Here's your update. Thank you very much for your review. We'll get to L/S, I promise. :)

**Annica: **Sorry for the delay – and thanks a lot for looking for an update. Here it is. I promise to hurry. :)

**Becky Greenleaf:** Thanks a lot for liking my dancing sequence. I thought it to be too much, but since you liked it, I'm relieved. ;)

**Lea:** Thanks a lot. No need to feel bad, though. I'm just glad you read it. :)

**XdareXDevilX:** Here's your update. Hopefully, it's not too short.

**Pealee: **Thanks a lot. Not much L/S in this one, but we'll get there, I promise.

**Kawaii-Peach14:** No dancing in this one, but I hope you still like it.

**Lil'n'Scotty foreva:** Thanks a lot.

**givemecookies:** I don't think you are out-of-character in your stories. I like them very much. And thank you for your kind review.

**Haley:** Sorry to keep you waiting. Nice nickname, BTW.

**EvangelineLilly:** Thanks a lot. Here's you update.

**AthenaIceGoddess:** We'll find out in the next chappie if Lilly likes him.

**Mellie Erdmann:** Thanks a lot. Yeah, they would've kept Orson.

**Tiantian Wang:** Who likes Christina anyway:) Thanks a lot for reviewing. What I wanted to ask you: your first name – does it mean something?


	10. The Beautiful Boy

Disclaimer: All characters seen or mentioned on COLD CASE belong to CBS and Jerry Bruckheimer and are used without permission. Sueing me would be a waste of time, since there's nothing you'd get out of this, because I don't make any money with this story.

If you don't like the idea of Scotty/Lilly, you should definitely leave.

**Bad news:** Still no sex.

**Good news:** Rather romance-less, but we get there.

**Sorry: **For not updating for so long.

ORPHEUS AND EURYDIKE  
No. 10: The Beautiful Boy  
by Dare

Rosa's house was full of police officers. Rydell and Orson were standing in a corner, talking silently, while Agent Sharma was busy ordering Rydell's officers around.

Rydell liked to shout at them – but when someone else shouted at them, Rydell got angry, because he got the distinct feeling someone was doing _his _job.

Lilly was _too _silent – while lots of CSI guys collected evidence in small plastic bags, she was just standing in the middle of the room, brooding. Things had been difficult for her, he knew.

It was a horrible case, but Frederick Zimmers' presence and his connection to Lilly's former fiancé Patrick Bailey, made things worse.

It was a strange thing, Scotty thought. Patrick was dead, gone – and somehow his presence was felt stronger than ever.

When Scotty looked at Lilly, standing there all alone in the middle of the room, thinking, he fought down the urge to take her hand and lead her out all of this. He also knew that she wouldn't let him.

As he strolled through the living room, his glance wandered over all the framed pictures on the shelf over the fireplace.

He recognised Rosa St. Claire on some of these pictures, along with smiling friends, smiling family members and on some of them was Juliette.

Juliette as a child, Juliette in her pre-teens, Juliette at the Sanatorium. There was a picture with Juliette, Rosa, Mrs. Trent and a tall, stern man with grey hair and thinly rimmed golden glasses. The women on the picture all smiled, but Mr. Trent didn't.

Behind a large family picture, Scotty found a small silvery frame, almost hidden behind two pictures of an uncle with a giant beard and an red-haired aunt with a tower-like hair cut that seemed to resist each and every gravity.

He looked at that picture and though he considered himself as testosterone driven and completely focused on women when it came to _that, _he had to admit that the boy on the picture – or rather, the young man, was stunningly beautiful.

The kind of person Leonardo or Michelangelo would have loved to paint or Wilde would have loved to write about.

He had curly, black hair, an even, almost triangular face and high cheek bones. His dark eyes were surrounded by long lashes and his lips were well-shaped and expressed a brooding personality. He looked like a Greek God would've looked like in his teens.

The eyes reminded him of someone but he couldn't quite place the feeling.

"Handsome young man," Lilly commented. "Who is he?"

Scotty turned the picture; nothing was written on the other side, not even on the photo itself. "No idea," he mumbled when he looked at the other pictures.

His glance wandered – over the pictures of the Trent family.

Agent Sharma entered the room – she wasn't particularly happy with what she saw. Orson followed her like a small puppy, a file in his hand and a Shomoolan Cookie in the other.

The FBI Agent pointed at Orson's file. "Apparently, Mr. Trent is not only paying for Juliette's stay in the Sanatorium, but also for this entire place." She looked around. "I understand that people out of a sense of gratification pay for their employees after they have retired but I never figured Jonathan Trent was the type."

Lilly still held the picture of the unknown boy. "We're missing something," she said and handed the picture to Orson. "Try to find out, who he is."

She looked at the pictures standing there, shimmering in their golden and silvery frames and Scotty followed her look.

He looked at the smiling faces and tried to find an anomaly in the pattern. His eyes strayed a picture of Juliette St. Claire, standing next to her mother. Both of them smiled, but the look on their faces told another story.

He looked more closely, finally grabbing the picture only to notice that Lilly had the same idea. She smiled at him and when they stared down at the frame they both were holding,

Scotty couldn't stop himself from noting the small bulge of Juliette St. Claire's stomach.

He looked at Lilly and could tell: she had seen it too.

"Juliette St. Claire was pregnant," Lilly noted.

Sharma shook her head. "So? We're trying to find out who killed the girl, Diana Trent."

"When was the picture taken?" she asked Scotty.

He turned the frame. "1970," he said.

Lilly smiled. "Meaning he was seventeen years old when Diana Trent was murdered."

"He? How do we know he's a he?" Sharma asked.

"Orson is holding his picture – I think he's definitely a _he_." Scotty grinned. "And according to the files, no one ever interviewed Juliette St. Claire -- or her son."

"You think he's a suspect?" Sharma snatched the picture of the man and pregnant Juliette with newly ignited fire. "Do we know who the father is?"

"I think we should have a little conversation with Jonathan Trent," Scotty said. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried hard not to look too victorious about he obvious step into the right direction. "About his relationship to Juliette St. Claire."

"Great." Sharma nodded. "I'll get Jonathan Trent into our interrogation room and you, Orson --" The man looked up at the mention of his name like a deer caught in the lights, his mouth filled with Shoomoolan Cookies. "Find out, if Juliette St. Claire had a child and if it's the man on the picture."

"You think the boy on the picture killed Diana Trent and his own grandmother, Rosa St. Claire?" Scotty asked while staring at the street, trying to get him and Lilly back to his apartment in one piece.

Lilly looked out of the window, supporting her head with her hand. "Yes," she said. "I think so."

There was something else on her mind – the faraway look in her eyes told it all. It had something to do with Frederick Zimmer's connection to the case – and therefore, with Patrick Bailey.

Scotty wondered what kind of man Patrick had been – and concluded that he must have been stupid to let Lilly slip away; the next second he admonished himself for the thought: After Christina, he himself had almost let her slip away.

Jonathan Trent was not a nice man – Lilly just had to look at him to come to this conclusion. His face was hard, he had a long, strong nose, fine wrinkles around his mouth and a broad chin. His eyes had to colour of dirty snow and when he smiled – or really, when he bared his teeth, they reminded Lilly of an animal. He was good-looking, no doubt, but the peak of his appearance had long passed.

He was not a nice man – and certainly no-one to be trusted with a child.

"Officers," he greeted Lilly and Scotty. "Agent," a nod towards Sharma.

He just raised his eyebrow at his assistant – a blond, pale woman – who hurried away to appear again with a tablet in her hands and steaming cups of coffee on it.

"How may I help you?" he asked.

Scotty looked over to Lilly, only to see her staring at Mr. Trent. There was some kind of appraising look on her face – and lots of intermeshing gears behind her forehead.

When she didn't say a thing, Sharma recovered quickly. "Mr. Trent, we'd like to talk to you about for former housekeeper, Rosa St. Claire. Is there anything you can tell us about her?"

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes, but it was gone before Scotty could find out what it was. "She worked for my family since my father's time. She retired eight years ago."

"Anything else?" Sharma pressured. "Anything personal?"

Mr. Trent's eyes narrowed and his back straightened a bit. "I do not have any personal connections to our servants," he said. "She cleaned the house and father used to send her a bouquet each birthday and each Christmas." There was a long glance towards his watch. "I'm a busy man – if there's nothing _valuable _you'd like to ask me, I suggest you leave now."

"Rosa St. Claire died this morning." Lilly's first words in this room.

Mr. Trent didn't even react. "I am indeed sorry to hear that." He paused for a heartbeat and asked. "Am I a suspect?"

"No – but as her former employer we thought you'd know anyone who could have harboured a grudge against Mrs. St. Claire?"

"_Miss _St. Claire," Mr. Trent corrected her. "She was not married. She was generally considered likeable and efficient. I do not know of anyone who could have killed her," he said and nipped on the coffee mug.

"Do you know where her grandson is?" Lilly asked.

Mr. Trent stared at her, at a loss for words for a moment. "Xavier? How you you know about him?"

"We found pictures of him in _Miss _St. Claire's house," Scotty said. "We'd like to talk to him, too. Maybe he knows something about his grandmother's death."

"I seriously doubt it," Mr. Trent snapped, while ringing for his assistant. "I am afraid I have to get back to work." When he got up and moved his head to look down at the phone, Scotty suddenly realized what Lilly had seen in him.

Something terrible dawned ...

Sharma seemed to be oblivious – she shook Mr. Trents hand and her first words when they had left the office where: "Well, that was a useless visit."

"No," Lilly shook his head. "No, it wasn't." She took out the picture of the beautiful boy, Xavier. "Look at him," she said. "Who does he look like?"

Sharma stared down at the picture. "Xavier? He looks like ..."

"The nose and the eyes," Lilly said. "He looks different because of his mother, but the nose and the eyes are the same."

"He's Jonathan Trent's son," Sharma said.

"His illegitimate son," Scotty concluded. "According to the files, he was never acknowledged by his father."

Lilly nodded. "Yes – and within that conclusion there's more than one motive for murdering the legitimate, _acknowledged _child of his father."

Scotty shook his head. "We won't be able to prove a relation between Mr. Trent and Xavier St. Claire."

Agent Sharma smiled viciously at him. "Just wait a second." She disappeared for a second in the office of Mr. Trent's assistant and when she came back, she carried Trent's coffee mug and made Scotty store it in an evidence back.

"Requesting a DNA test without the participant's declared agreement is considered illegal," Scotty noted.

"Murdering little girls is illegal too – guess what's higher on my priority list right now," she grumbled and shoved him out of the way.

Lilly and Scotty shared a glance.

"Charming," Scotty commented with a smile.

Lilly patted his arm. "You have no idea."

End #10

Don't worry, #11 is almost finished.


End file.
